Firefly
by LightningLaveau
Summary: AU. Updates occasionally. Largely MKDD!-based but contains references to a plethora of Mario titles. In the racing-obsessed bowels of the disordered Mushroom Kingdom, Bowser's eccentric karting team tops the charts. Through a series of twists and turns, Bowser will rise to meet his true destiny - sinister though it may be.
1. Rex Bowser

A/N: Greetings! Please note that this fic is rather visual-heavy (I originally intended to make it a graphic novel but it wound up as a text fic...for now!) so please check out thatmariokartfic on tumblr for supplementary images.

**Part One: Ante Up**

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

One

Bowser growled.

_Kids_.

The shadow in his rear view mirror gained in sharpness and color, until the whites of their eyes were visible as the redhead wound up to throw—

He never slowed down. Not once. The colossal green spiked shell danced past them as Bowser swerved aside, almost too smoothly to notice.

"Shell to four o'clock. Don't let 'em faze you!"

Koopa yelped an affirmative and chucked the shell in the direction of their pursuers, then another, then a third—_yes_, a hit—

_Watch for the waterfall, watch for the waterfall—YES! Good. Hairpin drift—_

Bowser steered the kart not away from the legs of the massive brontosaurus just ahead, but under them, and Koopa grabbed an Item box as Bowser avoided the pounding feet. Otherwise, they'd be crushed—

"Last lap, man! Focus!" Koopa shouted to his driver, chucking a banana peel behind them. Browser nodded, gritting his teeth, and swerved easily, following the flow of the tunnel. They sped through an Item box and into a great inner cavern littered with Items from the last lap. The underground lake sparkled in the dim light.

"I got us a boost!"

"Perfect." The redhead abruptly swerved towards a lone wooden ramp jutting out over the drink. Other karts raced past it; attempting to jump the gap without a star or Mushroom was effectively a joke.

"Whatcha doin' now, idiot?" Kong screeched as he and his nephew flew past.

Bowser plowed ahead, flipping the kart into first gear without breaking. Skills, okay.

"FIRE!"

Koopa squeezed the toadstool in his hand and it abruptly burst into shimmering gold light.

Their kart rocketed off of the wooden ramp, flew over the lake, and landed smoothly on the other side, snagging a stray Double Item box on the way. Bowser gave a hoarse laugh, burning the sound of the DK's howling into his mind as he and Koopa left them in the dust.

"That was perfect! Now, the bridge—" Bowser inhaled, his chest filling with dusty air, and leaned forward, nearly tilting off the seat. _Focus_.

"We got followers," his thrower called.

"How close?" He kept his eyes on the road in front of him.

"Up yours, Bow!" Boo yelled, his voice high-pitched and frantic. They were neck and neck. The Piranha-plant took the liberty of shoving Koopa aside, nearly off of his own Kart. Bowser took one hand off the wheel to shove Boo into the rock wall in return.

"Argh! Wha—"

In one perfect, graceful leap, Bowser's Kart flew over the geysers a millisecond before they blew, leaving King Boo and Petey Piranha to drive into a wall of boiling water.

First place.

"Nice," he breathed, putting the car into neutral as Lakitu towed them up to the garage. Koopa somersaulted off the pedestal behind the driver's seat as Bowser leapt onto the ground. They then proceeded to chest-bump in midair Sumo-style.

"Get a room, would ya?" Donkey Kong pulled up on their other side. The kid snarled at them, yellow teeth glinting in the light of the streetlamps. Scrawny kid not yet accustomed to commonly-accepted standards of personal hygiene. _Nasty_. But, he _was_ DK's nephew…

Bowser pulled a green lighter from his jeans pocket and lit a cigarette. "Oh, it's just you. You washed your kid's hair lately? No, wait, why am I asking…"

"Save it. You get first again?"

"Whatcha think?" Bowser took the opportunity to blow a smoke ring in the ape's face. DK angrily batted at it with one hand.

"_Little_ cocky for first place, dontcha think?"

"Making no sense, ape. First is the best there is."

"And you can quit with the mudslingin' already."

"If you'd quit _acting_ like one…"

Next race.

He and Koopa had lost back at the Coliseum by a narrow half-second to the albino but tied it back again in the second race. If he could beat Boo at this one, he would win, three out of four.

"It's not that simple," Koopa reminded him for the eightieth time. "You gotta win by a margin of twelve seconds this time around because of your standing from the last race. Even if you got first place and Boo got fifth he could still win by margins."

God damn margins. Bowser kneaded his temples as the garage lights flashed. Time to launch.

Rainbow Road. God-forsaken Rainbow Road.

Whose idea had it been to put in a vertical suction vacuum? Why build the longest racetrack in the Cup in outer space? Who had the time and money to build the thing in the first place, a Lisa Frank acid trip in the middle of nowhere? Now that he thought about it, how could they ever _breathe_ up there? If Rosalina hadn't—

No. No. Don't think about that. Think about now. At this place—ugh.

Lakitu appeared, holding up the starting lights. Bowser's right calf clenched instinctively as the three-second red light flashed.

Of course, the ridiculous construction of the place was coupled with quite a few areas in which he could show off his skills. Like all tracks in the Special Cup, the place was designed for veterans like him. It tested him and it gave him room for growth. Little to no guard rails, treacherous slippery road, and—he would never admit it aloud—pretty.

"…two… one…"A hush fell over the crowd. "GO!" He hit the pedal for a rocket start.

And so the casuals were lain waste. Half of them fell off into oblivion at the first ramp; others lost control on the tight curves and had to be fetched by the poor Lakitu.

Bowser shook his head, having passed a kart that had fallen off the road above him. The god of racing, reduced to fishing wimps out of the void. Ridiculous.

The race went magically. Not only a rocket start but a double-dash, the perfect vector he and Koopa had spent days perfecting; immaculate sliding turns at each curve, impossible aim by the godlike Thrower and his gift of triple shells, and occasionally Bowser's big Spiny… but—

"Four second margin! What now? What now?" Boo gave a sickly grin and strode off.

Bowser kicked the Kart's fender. It was a tie. A bloody draw. A four-second difference in the final race meant their times matched to the ninth decimal place. The hell.

Lakitu popped up—out of nowhere, seemingly—and the garage returned to the city, flying towards the shimmering dark surface below.

"Well, boys, congrats as usual. Spectacular handling of the Dino-Dino Jungle, if I must say, Bowser, _particularly_ for a kart as heavy as yours. The FBR cameras managed to capture your leg-dodging move on video and, if I heard correctly, plan on using it to instruct the defensive driving class downtown. Not too shabby, eh?"

Bowser licked his lips, pleasantly surprised. "Wow. I didn't think that was anything special…"

Lakitu laughed brusquely. "And I'd thought you'd be used to it by now. Oh, and if you don't mind, I'd like a word. Your uncle has given me a message—"

Bowser looked around nervously. Boo was gone, the ape had strutted off, Koopa and the others were talking at the nearby plaza… no one else…

"Um, fine. What is it?"

"The king requests you contact a certain associate of mine as soon as possible. However, he failed to leave me a name, so I couldn't tell you whom exactly; he'll call you, is what he said, but since you don't answer your phone—"

"Fine, fine… I'll check… thanks."

"And don't forget—the summer All-Cup tourney begins in a little over a month. You might want to get a few hours in if you intend to improve from your time today—a rather necessary goal in my opinion if you wish to place. Remember that you and your gang will be facing opponents from all over the world. To put it plainly, your highness, we're past the nationals at this point."

"I hear you. Thanks." They nodded and Bowser strode off towards his Kart.

And it was a sexy Kart. He had designed it off the tapestries in his uncle's house. Also because no one could stop him. And that it gave small children nightmares.

"You ready, man?" It was Koopa. Bowser blinked and nodded, sliding the garage door shut. Time to head back downtown.

Mushroom City, where the eighteen-wheelers stop for no one. The idea brought a smile to Bowser's face as the dark world blurred around them.

"You okay?"

"Me? Peachy. I—oh, no, I mean—"

"You thinking about her?"

"Now, yeah." He felt his insides freeze. _Christ_.

"Dude, snap out of it. Do you wanna get food, or what?"

"Oh, yeah… yeah—where's Wally?"

"With Wario. Luigi and Daisy are there already, had the day off or something…"

"What about the kids? They were just here—"

"Yeah, the Toadster called. They're at some all-night techno rave thing."

"Sounds sounds like Toad all right. So Baby's with him?"

"Baby B'll do whatever Toad does, so…"

"I swear, that guy's got a beanie for every day of the year." It was true. The Toadster never showed up without wearing a hat Bowser had never seen before.

Koopa chuckled. "I believe you. We're lucky to have him, though. Races pretty nice for a high-school kid." They dodged traffic, entering a commercial zone. Brilliantly-lit restaurants and shops abounded.

"For real. We gotta quit shelling the kids during the All-Cup since they'd be adding to our team score. I keep forgetting it's right around the corner."

"Heh. You say so…"

They looked both ways on instinct and leapt across the road, narrowly missing a shroom car. Did the driver wave to them, or shout at them for doing something so dangerous? No. And what was the number one cause of death in Mushroom City? Hit-and-runs. Giggles.

They entered the neon-lit restaurant, where dozens of people chattered noisily in huge red booths."Hi, Daisy. D'you get us a table or what?"

The stocky redhead nodded and gestured for them to sit down, stuffing her cell into the back pocket of her jeans. Daisy grinned before waving her hand in front of the face of the guy sitting across from her.

"Argh, don't do that—" Luigi snapped, blinking.

"You'll bore a hole in the wall."

"They say Hitler was considering _not_ doing the whole holocaust thing, right before it began. He was thinking that maybe it was a bad idea, but someone waved their hand in front of his face and he dismissed the idea. Then six million Jews died."

Koopa blinked. "…and, on that pleasant note, Wally and Wario are here."

"He hates it when you call him tha—Bowser, could you _please _not do that here? We're in the non-smoking sec—"

Bowser stood up quickly and headed for the door, taking the pack with him. "Fine, fine…"

He reached Wario and Waluigi halfway across the restaurant.

"Leaving so soon?" Wario asked, rubbing one eye. Waluigi looked out the window wistfully.

"Be right back. Just a smoke."

"Don't take forever. We gotta discuss… stuff." He eyed the one Shy Guy within earshot. Spies, the lot of them.

Bowser nodded, and stepped outside as the others headed for the table.

It began to rain; he scooted under an awning, so his feet alone became soaked. Whatever. He needed his nicotine.

_What does he want with me?_

He usually saw his uncle Saulus… once a year? Twice? More than enough. Well, this would make the third time this year. Obviously something was up. Bowser growled and inhaled the smoke.

Cars veered past, their head and tail lights angelic blurs against the darkness of the city. Cars, trucks, buses, obnoxious little mopeds… Bowser leaned back against the window in silent appreciation of them all. Cars defined life here. Roads, roads, roads, and more roads, and millions of skyscrapers right on the roads, and roadside restaurants and huge parking garages with spiral ramps—speaking of which—

"Well, that'll be easy…" Spiral ramps. Where would the city be without a few illegal races every so often?

"You coming in?" Wally poked his head through the door. Bowser nodded and they returned to the table.

"So, where?" Wario dove into the subject immediately.

"They cleared out the old Grodus industries tower, so the garage there should be empty…" Bowser examined his fingernails. Slightly dusty.

"You swear?" Koopa asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Have I ever let you down before?"

"Twice. And both times you were arrested."

"Just twice! And you weren't arrested, were you? Just me."

Koopa blinked. "True."

"Now that I think about it, how come you didn't get judged?" Luigi asked over the rim of his glass.

"I dunno. The Shy Guy in charge kept telling me I'd be fine if I stayed safe. How does that sound?"

"Like he has a crush on you. If I were him I'd send you to Lakitu's people."

"Lakitu loves me. His group capped a video of us dodging the dinosaur. Gonna use it in their defensive driving classes."

"Hah! That sounds like something the Bureau would do. Oh, good, food."

Another Shy Guy waiter arrived with a tray of their orders. After hours of racing without food, the smell overpowered them and several minutes passed before anyone stopped to speak again.

"Next garage race, we should get catering from here." Daisy grinned, wiggling her eyebrows at them.

Wally actually took pains to speak, after swallowing his food and nearly choking to death. Wario laughed at the poor guy.

"You—catering—_why_? Do they cater to Boo's group?"

"For the after party. If we tell them that it's organized, then they won't bother us."

Luigi shook his head dismally. "Daisy… they need to _believe_ that it's organized… before they agree to… cater…"

"No one needs to eat this much after a race. It'd be a shock to the system…" Bowser trailed off and bit into the burger again. Mmmmm. Fucking role model.

"Okay, no catering. How about the betting?"

"That's organized," Wario replied.

"But they only cleared the place out a few days ago," Luigi murmured. "You don't think they'll still have security, do you?"

"We can stake it out tomorrow night. If it's clear, then it's clear. If it's not, then we do same as last week. But we gotta spread word."

"Done." Koopa pulled out a palmtop computer and began scribbling on it with a stylus. He often received major technology discounts from his employers at the midtown electronics superstore.

"Never mind then. Gimme your onions." Bowser reached over onto Koopa's plate and nearly reached the steaming vegetables when Koopa slapped his hand away.

"No. Mine. Get laid."

Bowser slumped back into his seat, glum, as Daisy laughed at him. "Hey, can I get an order of onion rings?" he asked a passing Shy Guy. The creature nodded in affirmative and glided into the kitchen. Sweet angel.

"Forget it. So, if not the Grodus, then the Fawfulworks tower garage and driveway. The cops don't go there anymore."

They proceeded to finish their meal. Bowser felt himself drifting off. He felt at peace when with his team. That was that. Everyone else on the planet pretty much sucked on some level. A handful of notable exceptions aside.

Luigi interested Bowser more so than the others. He had not always been with Bowser's gang like the others—excluding Toad, and Daisy. In fact, she had joined along with him.

Why? To spite his family. Bowser held no grand delusion that Luigi had bought into the street racing lifestyle. But the guy had needed an out. Hell, it had probably been Daisy's idea; she was the better driver, the better racer. No way in hell would a handful of official tournaments quench her thirst for speed every season. Plus, Baby adored her. Or vice versa. Or both. But Bowser still sometimes wondered whether Luigi regretted joining.

Daisy sure didn't seem to regret anything. Daisy had Red Bull and PCP for blood. A debate still stood over whether she had actually slept in the past year or not. It literally frightened Bowser at times. Where the hell did all her energy stem from?

No, that was obvious. She leeched it from Luigi like a damn life force vacuum. The guy had trouble staying awake save for when he was racing.

Bowser grinned. Luigi and Daisy were the physical manifestation of Kamek's yin-yang theory—two complete opposites working in perfect harmony. She drove with all the caution and grace of a possessed rhino while Luigi clobbered their opponents with his sets of electric green fireballs.

Wario and Waluigi… they were the more troubled ones of the group in terms of skill. Wally was at least on good terms with everyone. He and Luigi were rivals to an extent, but nothing like Bowser was with the ape or albino… more of a constructive competition whereas Boo was essentially a pain-in-the-ass white boy with a penchant for banter and a set of Ds.

In any case, Wario could drive better than he could throw, thereby locking him in the drivers' seat for all eternity while Wally threw bombs at people from the throwers' pedestal. Sixth was typically a good placing for them, Bowser decided, particularly for the All-Cup where placing at top three was a given rarity for any particular kart. Not for him, of course, but fine if all you wanted was the money…and indeed they were only in it for the cash. In that regard, they were skilled drivers indeed.

Money. To be honest, it was the main reason that Wally and Wario hung around. They spent more time arranging bets than practicing, and consequently spent less time racing as they were unlikely to place, and the cycle continued.

Not him. Bowser and Koopa went all the way. First place or nothing. Though he would be plenty happy taking fifth or six provided he had a chance to kick Boo's albino ass at some point. Lord knows he was equipped.

If there was one thing he liked about himself more than anything else, it was the shells. The gorgeous, colossal, spiked, green monsters of shells that blew Karts to pieces and cleared his path of stray Items and knocked entire Mac trucks out of his way and—

"You done thinking yet?"

Bowser snapped to attention; Koopa had spoken.

"Hey, just 'cause it takes you ten years to produce a thought doesn't mean I—"

"Psh. Anyways, how much you got on you? We're five coins short—"

"Nah, I got it." Bowser dumped their pile of cash back on the table and handed his debit card to the waiter, yet another Shy Guy with a black apron.

"Dude, where d'you _get_ those things?"

"My dad's brother. Same as everything else you ask me about." He felt a sinking sensation at the pit of his stomach every time it was brought up. One day he'd snap the damn thing in half.

"I keep forgetting you have a fuckin' sponsor. No fair."

"The rich uncles, they make the world go round," Wario remarked. Bowser raised an eyebrow, wondering not the first time how much Wario knew.

"Thank you sir, and good evening."

"Take it easy, man." They all stood up and walked out onto the street.

"So… day off tomorrow… who wants to scope?"

"I can't. Paratroopa said she'd call back tomorrow."

Bowser froze, his lighter fizzing out half an inch away from the cigarette in his mouth. "She's making a decision?"

Koopa nodded. "Don't get your hopes up. Her parents want her to get a decent education."

"She got accepted into the city university, right?"

"Yeah. Still…"

"Your girlfriend's calling tomorrow?" Wally murmured.

"Where have you been?" Daisy asked. He shook his head and tuned back into his mp3 player.

"So you and Bowser should stay together. Well… Luigi and I can scope the Grodus towers out. We're the quietist."

"Maybe if they shoved you in a soundproof room. And no, scoping and making out are not synonymous." Bowser puffed angrily on the cigarette.

"You've got the Bloom Coach to buff," Luigi told Daisy. "Wally and I can go and then you can switch off with him at eleven. Deal?"

"You're gonna do it the whole time?"

"We get there at five, check the place for cops, read a magazine, and scram if they show up, thereby getting the data for the race. If they don't show up, then we do the same thing tomorrow. If they don't show up _then_, then we move the race there. For God's sake, they've got a spiral ramp…"

Daisy sighed, setting an alarm on her phone. "Fine. I show up at eleven unless you call. Wally! You paying attention?"

Wally closed his eyes. "I head up there at five with Louie and leave at eleven unless there's trouble. Jesus."

Bowser wrapped a lock of red hair around his finger. "Deal. I may or may not have to talk to Koopa's girl. Or the parents. Or both. But it'd be great if we could get more people on our team."

"You should be a patron, like your uncle." Wario yawned. Okay, maybe he was just good at guessing.

"Whatever. I got stuff to do. Meet at one tomorrow?"

"Sure. Where?" Koopa asked.

"Underpass. Even if it rains… no, wait, then we'll go to your house. Wario's gotta talk to the… um… benefactors, I'm guessing, so we'll see ya later, right?"

Wario nodded. "Day after tomorrow. Night." He strode off towards the south end. Luigi and Daisy waved and followed him. They all kept their cars in the same garage.

"Are you gonna be online? I got nothing to do all night," Koopa said, sounding appropriately bored.

"Can't you let him crash at your place?" Wally asked quietly. Bowser shook his head.

"Sorry. No can do."

Koopa shrugged. "Whatever. Are you gonna be online or not?"

"Maybe… if I'm not after eleven then I won't be all night."

"Fine. See ya, Wally." They turned in opposite directions. Waluigi and Wario lived close to downtown within walking distance.

"Night." Bowser nodded quickly to Koopa, who swung his leg over his yellow Vespa and zoomed off. He himself climbed into his black pickup and took F-10 west.

Far west. City-outskirts west. Outside of Greater Mushroom City jurisdiction west. Past the king's privately-owned All-Cup regulation size race course. Executive district, with its government-classed custom-built mansions built on craggy ledges overlooking what had once been the beautiful City Valley, a quarry of red marble now empty and dark, no thanks to the city's constant starless night. Bowser's castle loomed just ahead, a hulking silhouette against the red glow of the occasional effusive eruption from the ground under his property.

_Blessed be the child never in want of a steady lava flow, eh? _

_Shut up, Kamek._

He pulled into the underground garage, parked, and headed upstairs. This place… too empty. Noise echoed far too much off of the stone walls, a reminder—no. No.

His phone lay under a heap of empty cigarette packets on the floor of his bedroom. After weighing his mood, Bowser decided the suspense of all this overpowered his distaste for looking at his phone. He sighed and dug the thing out, bracing himself.

King Giga-Bowser had called.

The monarch had called _twice_. No…one more down his call log… _three_ times.

Something was definitely up. An involuntary shudder ran through his body, reminding him.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Thanks for your patience. As always, reviews are appreciated. I literally wrote these first few chapters over five years ago so they're pretty godawful lol.

-L.L.


	2. Paretta Paratroopa

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Two

His highness had called Bowser three times—_three_— just to tell him to check in with some buddy of Lakitu's. A name would have been nice. The king had hung up before Bowser had thought to ask.

"He's actually a bona fide racing addict—not like your people or anything, per se, that wouldn't be fair. He's on a completely different level from your lot, you're about to find out…but it's imperative you find him. You _need_ this guy, kid. He can put you places your city rivals don't even know about."

"But where would he…?"

"He and Lakitu hang out at the Tower a lot. A _lot_. He's been bangin' around Mushroom City a bit in the past month so I'd suggest you take advantage of this while you still can. It'd do you a bit of good to pop in there. You know Lakky. Loves them pleasant surprises. Also, screw up on this and I can guarantee you will be miserable. He's a big-time race observer. Most of the regional outcomes were determined by the stuff his R&D department cooked up years ago."

Bowser shook his head. The last time something like this had happened had been… oh, four years ago… he'd been fifteen, just starting the racing…

He'd known Lakitu. Supposedly the King and Lakitu were big buds. For some absurd reason, Bowser did not find this difficult to believe.

So his instructions then had been to kiss up to Lakitu. That had not been hard.

The easiest way to impress Lakitu was to get first place for two weeks in a row. Bowser had done so in the Star cup that time on Mirror Mode. Good times, good times.

But what was this new guy's _name_? He had no clue.

"You'll know him when you see him. He's done a bit of work in the scientific department for the FBR… experiments and all that. Normally it would be a bit off as a normal citizen to introduce yourself to the man, what with the controversy around his experiments, but _you_, kid—"

Bowser had cut in then. "Whaddya mean, controversy? He killing small animals or something?"

The King had let out a hollow laugh. "You gonna cry? Get on it, kiddo."

That settled it_._ The King both funded and at times blatantly promoted big power companies, he knew that much. But this was low, even for—

_Calm down_.

Bowser was sick of thinking of rich people. He lit up and turned around in his futon so as to face the ceiling-high mirror. Only a Narcissistic freak like him would keep a huge mirror in his room. He gazed upon himself.

Even as he remained seated, Bowser was clearly tall. A good six foot five. But then, so was Wally, nearly. Louie and Wario only came up to his chin, Daisy to his neck, Koopa to his chest. Toad and Baby barely reached his upper arms.

He had decided to wear his hair long some time ago, but he kept it in a slick ponytail most of the time to not get in the way. It reached his lower back, just about. At home he let it loose. The hair was glorious, hundreds of shades of copper and gold, especially in the light of the fire nearby. When it was loose, it flowed and shifted behind his back like ripples in water. Shorter pieces framed his face.

Daisy had told him once his face was pretty. It had been the closest he had ever come to hitting a girl outside of a race.

He checked the clock. Midnight. No point in talking to Koopa, then. Bowser remained seated on the futon, his legs warm under a huge blanket someone had made for him. He couldn't remember not for the life of him who had.

It was a warm blanket. Red and black. His favorite colors. Predictable enough.

Yes, the place was warm. If there was one thing Bowser hated, it was to be cold.

That made him laugh. Boo was the opposite. Prick lived in a freezer at Baron Brr's place uptown. Probably ate nothing but ice cream. How else could a guy get that fat? The man was a penguin.

A wicked penguin with a sizeable gang in Mushroom City. But a pudgy one nonetheless.

Bowser's phone rang. He picked it up.

"Yo." Koopa's voice.

"Yeah?"

"She's calling tomorrow at noon. I want you to be there, you talk to people better than I do."

"Aight."

"If it's a yes, she'll be living at the university downtown. If no, then she'll come from time to time, but it'll be difficult to get her involved in real races."

"She wants to race. We're going to do everything in our power to make that possible for her." Bowser puffed on the cigarette.

"I hear ya. But we'll need to find her a partner… she'll probably have to be a Thrower until she can get in a few hours on the track…"

Bowser yawned. "That's fine. You could help her, bro. You drive as good as me."

"As _well_. You should consider applying to that school yourself."

He laughed. "If I'm good enough in the races I won't have to."

"Huh. Daisy's getting stuff for the house tomorrow. She wants to know if you want anything in particular… but not cigarettes."

"Thought as much. Tell her… uh… breakfast food. Bread and stuff. Rice…I dunno." Groceries were a hassle. "I can pay her back next time I see her."

"Yeah, I told her cereal."

Oh, boy. "Did you tell her what kind?"

"Cocoa puffs."

"What the hell. She's like a six-year-old."

"Tell her that yourself."

"Do you think she's awake?"

Silence.

"I didn't ask that. Talk to you in a second."

"Cool. Over and out." They hung up and Bowser dialed Daisy's number.

"HIIIII!" she bellowed after picking up three tones in. Bowser held his cell two feet from his ear and shouted back into it.

"DAISY! CAN YOU PLEASE GET US SOME REAL FOOD WHEN YOU GO SHOPPING TOMORROW?"

"WHY? YOU CAN'T EAT CEREAL LIKE US LESSER MORTALS? I'M EATING SOME RIGHT NOW! AHAHAHAHA!"

Bowser cringed. "What are you eating it with?"

"MONSTER. WHY?"

"Daisy… it's eleven… you'll be up all night…" Not to whine or anything, but—

"SO?"

"I need you to be awake to buy stuff tomorrow."

"I WILL BE AWAKE! I JUST NEED MY COFFE AND THEN I'M—"

"I hear you. Just… don't talk this loud when you buy st—"

"I'M NOT BUYING STUFF! I'M GOING SHOPPING!"

Bowser blinked. "You're going shopping?" Buying stuff was okay. Daisy shopping? _Bad_.

"YEAH! I NEED NEW SHAMPOO AND A NEW OUTFIT FOR THE ALL CUP TOURNEY AND SOME NEW PAINT FOR THE KART AND THE GROCERIES AND SOME FLOWERS FOR THE APARTMENT AND—"

"SHUT UP!" Bowser had spoken.

"HUH?"

"YOU'RE TOO LOUD! I'M GOING DEAF!"

"Oh, sorry…" The inhuman buzzing in the background stopped.

Bowser shook his head mournfully. "You don't normally listen to—"

"LOUIE'S PLAYING—I mean, Louie's playing AC/DC while we're working on the Bloom Coach—"

"You two are fruity."

"Hey! Just no one's dated you since Peach—"

Bowser hung up, rolling his eyes.

No one mentioned Peach to him except for Koopa. No one.

He gazed at the photos on the mantelpiece to cool down. They glinted occasionally in the light of the fireplace. Why didn't he take them down? He couldn't. They had to be there, to remind him—

His phone rang again. Daisy. He left it on the floor.

Instead, he lit another cigarette. This place smelled disgusting. He'd fix it up later. Tomorrow maybe.

Bowser pulled his knees to his chest, resting his elbows on them, holding the cigarette delicately in the base of his fingers. He needed sleep. He needed water.

…Why hadn't he at least been given a name? Why?

Maybe this guy was a mafia don. Maybe he'd already know him.

But if he was a bud of Lakitu, he'd be big. Lakitu was legitimate. To make actual legal rich friends took way more work and control than shooting a guy. In one case, international race-fixing, illegal gambling, double homicide, and blackmail.

Bowser exhaled a jet of smoke. Someday.

Illegal _racing_ did not count here.

Illegal racing existed for two reasons: money, and adrenaline. But not pain. Not slaughter.

Around one his phone rang again. Not Daisy, but Wally. He picked it up in spite of himself.

"She wants to apologize for her last comment. She didn't know you were brooding."

Bowser nodded. "Tell her I'm not sore. Just tired."

"Gotcha. Night."

"Night."

They hung up. After time passed, he threw away the dead cigarette. Enough for one night.

Giving in, Bowser shut down, traipsed upstairs, and pulled the spiked straps from his arms. His footsteps echoed, impossibly loud in the empty rooms.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Bowser rocked back and forth on Koopa's ancient worn leather sofa. Pre-consultation jitters.

"She said noon, right? Noon? Isn't that what you said?"

"Dude, for the sixth time, noon. Calm down."

"What are they like? Mean? Intelligent? Doormat?"

"They're no doormats. Just state your case. Kiss up to 'em. Pretend you're talking to Lakitu or the guy your uncle was talking about."

"Given everything else that's happened, her dad could easily be the same guy."

What a thought. He'd never even met Paratroopa. He'd seen a picture once, and spoken on the phone once, but nothing in person.

The phone rang and Bowser jumped three feet in the air.

"Relax, man. Two rings." Koopa took another sip of coffee. The phone rang again and he picked it up.

"Hello?"

Bowser strained his ears to listen to the other side of the conversation in addition to Koopa's.

"Koopa?" Paratroopa's voice. High and breathless.

"Yeah. What up?"

"My parents said I could come!"

Bowser gave a silent yelp. _YES._

"They like the university here, so I can do the weekend tourneys. Once I pick my major I can arrange it so I don't have to miss class for the major-league races if I ever get good enough—"

"Oh, you'll be fine. I told ya 'bout my people—we're the best racers in town. We can train you and stuff, find you a partner…"

"Um, about the partner thing... my parents wanna talk to you, hang on…"

"Oh, really?" He covered the mouthpiece with his hand and grinned at Bowser. Bowser sank back into the leather couch, a huge if nonexistent weight lifted from his shoulders. At least his stomach felt normal.

"Koopa?" An older man's voice.

"Yes, sir?"

"Good to talk to you. Now, listen. Para's really serious about moving, and you should already know that she'll be staying in the university campus. She does not know a single person in town save for you, so I'm expecting you to look after her. Do you understand?"

Koopa nodded avidly. _Village parents. _The world was infinitely huge and scary to them. "Have no fears, sir. We can show her around, help her get used to stuff before term starts, help her move in… I do live kinda close to downtown, so I can do stuff if she needs anything…"

"That's great to hear. But, about the racing… from what I've been able to tell, there are two people per car—"

"Yes, sir. One Driver and one thrower, that is, Item launcher…"

"And we want you to drive for her."

Silence. Bowser stopped breathing. _What?_

"I can honestly tell you that at the moment I don't feel like letting her throw for another driver. Perhaps once she's been in town for a while, knows who's who around there and all, then maybe she can… oh, I don't know… but I'm letting her race on the condition she only does so with you. No one else. Is that clear?"

"Sir—" Koopa gave a strained look to Bowser, covering the receiver with one hand.

Bowser blinked, and inhaled slowly.

It was going to be either him or Paratroopa.

He and Koopa had been driving together for years.

This was Paratroopa's only chance.

Where would he find another partner?

This was her only chance to enter the world of racing. If he said no, then she'd lose everything. Because of him.

If he said yes, he'd have to find a new partner and train it before the All-Cup tourney in less than one month.

She needed Koopa.

But so did he.

No, he might be able to find someone…

"Bow?" Koopa was looking at him, just as shaken as he was. Bowser inhaled deeply, and nodded.

"Do what he says. She needs you."

"Bow—"

"Do it." He crossed one leg over the other.

"Sir, that's… that's fine with me… I mean, my partner will have to find himself a new thrower…"

A sharp intake of breath was heard on the other side of the line.

"Oh, that's right, I'd forgotten… it won't be hard for him, will it? I did not mean to put you into this position…"

"Gimme the phone," Bowser said to Koopa. Koopa hesitated, then spoke into the phone.

"Um, he's actually right here in the room with me… would you like to speak with him?"

"Oh, well, sure…"

Koopa handed Bowser the phone. Bowser spoke, feeling somehow as though he'd practiced for this all his life. Time to shoot the bull—something at which he was unfortunately, and appallingly, quite skilled.

"Good morning, sir. It's great news that you're letting Paratroopa race! We'd been looking forward to having her in the city… our friend Daisy's also going to the university here, so once they're introduced, they can meet more people…" _Load it on._

"That's… good to hear… is this, um, Daisy… also a racer?"

"Oh, yes, sir. She's one of the best. Her parents are Bell and Adam of Sarasaland."

"You're serious? I had no idea their girl was still in school. That's fantastic."

"She's a close friend of ours, actually. On our All-Cup team. Racks up a fair amount of points over the summer when she's done studying."

"My goodness. Well, I'm sorry to have to hand Koopa that clause, but we simply are too unfamiliar with the people of Mushroom City…"

"Oh, that's perfectly understandable, sir. No trouble. I'll be able to work something out." _Not._ What the bloody hell was he doing to himself?

"Well, that is very, very kind of you. If there's anything we can help you with, just say the word, um… what did you say your name was, again?"

He had, to his knowledge, not mentioned his own name the whole time.

"I'm Bowser, sir." Hopefully that would suffice.

"Ah. Well, then, I'll be around now that Paratroopa will be in the city. You take care, young man."

"Thank you, sir." He handed Koopa the phone and zoned out.

"Yep… oh, no problem… sure, I think I've already written it down… two days? Cool. Yes, thank you very much… oh, yeah. Cool. Heh, bye." He hung up.

More silence.

"What are you going to do?" Koopa eventually asked, gritting his teeth.

Bowser closed his eyes, letting his head fall back. "I'll think of something."

"He wants her in the All-Cup. I've got one month to train her, but she's decent already. It won't take as long as it would to train a complete casual."

"True."

"Talk to Lakitu. He'll do anything to help you."

Bowser blinked. An idea had sprung up, a huge and horrible idea. An idea with a large probability of working, to his eternal shame.

Would he debase himself enough to do it? Could he? Surely honor here would not matter as much as getting into the race—

"Yeah, I will. Listen, do you think Lakitu will be at the Tower tonight? Maybe I should ask …"

"Hah! You're gonna call your uncle?"

"I have no choice. No, really, do what you can with her. The more racers, the better. She can join us. Daisy's the only girl and it's starting to affect her."

Koopa blinked. "How so?"

"Well… when's the last time you've seen her in a dress?"

"Wow. No, wait, what about the Bloom Coach? If that's not the girliest Kart I've ever—"

"That's Luigi being fruity. No, I'm serious, nothing but good will come from this. I just gotta get me a Thrower and we're all set. Plus you'll have to try to beat me for once, instead of helping me…"

"Don't complain when I find me a set of triple red shells on the last lap and I'm second place to—"

Bowser growled. "Save it."

"Hah. You're gonna ask Lakitu for a spare?"

"Aw, don't call 'em that."

"That's what they are. Should anyone's partner get ill or something right before a race, they always send you the highest-ranked rookie or something. Not that that's ever happened to me…"

"I'll see."

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Bowser lit up and inhaled the smoke like a dying man gasping for air.

No other option. He dialed the king's personal cell.

The regent picked it up halfway through the first ring. "What happened?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah… um, d'you know where I can find Lakitu? Y'know, small talk?"

"Ah! Yes… well, tonight he'll be at the Tower showing his guest around. Thought I toldya the same thing yest—"

"Right. I gotta go."

"Bye."

Bowser hung up. That had been easy.

It was eight o'clock. Louie had called at seven-thirty saying no one had shown up yet, and that Baby and Toad would do the graveyard shift. Not like they normally used the night hours for sleeping anyways.

Bowser grinned, thinking of Baby B, his little clone. Strangers often assumed they were brothers when seeing them together. For all he knew, they were right. The kid was a spitting image of him, with flaming red hair and golden eyes… pretty face… but instead of growing his hair out a lá Bowser, he had this Einstein thing going.

Baby would never be seen without Toad. They were both seventeen and juniors at the local high school—the same one Bowser had attended—Mushroom High, home of the fighting Goombas.

Bowser loved Toad. The guy raved. Literally. He and Baby spent more time in the warehouse district than in school. In possession of glowsticks. And maybe other things. He had no clue what Baby did to make money. The idea often bothered him.

He thought of Toad, dragging silently on the cigarette. There was a perpetually mysterious quality to the guy. Parents constantly away on business trips or something of the nature. Not hard to imagine… he sure was quiet, though. Quiet and watchful, like a freaking vulture.

Albeit a vulture with brightly-colored phat pants and sleeveless turtlenecks and a bazillion beanie hats. Baby had once proclaimed, after visiting the Toadster's house, that the guy had three closets full of beanies and wore a different one each day. The Toadster had not denied it, nor had anyone not believed it.

The guy sure could dance, though. Like a shiny fish outta water.

And race. Fast little mother.

Bowser stood up, stretched, and pulled out a jacket. One of his favorites, it was a fifties-style biker jacket, black leather with iron studs. Then the leather straps, one on each upper arm, one per wrist, and the fat one around his neck. Then sturdy black leather boots. _When in doubt_, Kamek had muttered at one point, _dress to kill._

He went into the garage and walked past the red Escalade, past the Ford Super-Duty he had been won from placing third in last season's All-Cup. For this occasion, the immaculate black vehicle would not do; he needed something more ostentatious. And so he stopped at the solid white Hummer with platinum spinners.

That would work.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o


	3. Dry Bones

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Three

Though the rain had thankfully quit a few hours ago, resulting in only light traffic, Bowser ached to speed up, his right calf clenched over the pedal. Every twitch in his leg muscles urged him to floor it—crash through traffic—part them like the red sea on his way to the Tower. He needed to get back to the tracks, badly, especially with the meet in two days.

He pulled into the immense garage that delved as far belowground as the infamous Mushroom City Tower above it extended into the clouds. A restaurantat the very top had a 360-degree view of the entire city and turned on an axis, slowly, providing diners with a full view of the city around them. Heartwarming. Rather, it gave the owners an excuse to charge fifty coins for a meal. Completely inane, but for this one time it would be doable.

"One. Smoking."

"Yes, sir. Right this way…"

There were quite a few people at the Tower tonight, he noticed, mostly crowding around the plasma TVs behind the bar watching a live kart race in…Sarasaland? Daisy's country, Bowser remembered irately. The races there must not have been as exciting as they were here… yep, there was Lakitu all right.

Bowser froze.

The man sitting across from him, lurching over the dark cherry tabletop like a vulture, was impossibly pale_—_his skin so white that his cheekbones were visible. His ash blonde hair was nearly as white as his skin, cut short and straw-like over his skull. Not albino, like Boo, but _corpse_. Lakitu was eating dinner with a goddamn cadaver. Bowser shivered involuntarily.

Lakitu's companion wore a black suit and silver tie; at one point, they both stood up and headed towards the glass outer wall, and Bowser's eyebrows rose even higher. So similar to the protagonist of that one Tim Burton movie, disproportionately tall and thin with limbs far too long. The suit almost matched, too… so _creepy_…

"Can I get you something to drink?" a Pianta behind the bar asked him. Bowser shook his head.

"No, thanks. Maybe in a bit…" They hadn't even thought to card him. _Nice_.

He nodded and slowly got up, walking airily towards the huge glass pane bearing a panoramic view of Mushroom City. It wasn't bad at all now that the rain had stopped. The millions of neon and fluorescent lights contrasted with the dark glass and concrete of the place resulting in a dazzling cityscape rival to the Sarasaland capital, or Toad Town further south. Bowser lit a cigarette.

"Well, well, well! Good evening, Bowser, and so good to see you again!" Bowser froze, then looked to his left. Lakitu and skeleton man had approached him. He grinned and blew the last wisp of smoke from his mouth, not sure how to act.

Skeletor raised an invisible eyebrow and exclaimed in a high tenor, "Oh, that wouldn't be Bowser, nephew of the Koopa King Giga-Bowser, would it? Lakitu and I had _just_ talked about you over the phone! Such a pleasure!"

Bowser gave a curt nod. Oh, boy. Another fan. Oh, Christ.

"That'd be me. Nice to meet you, um…?"

The man extended a single translucent hand. "Doctor Dry Bones, at your service. Lakitu here's shpealed quite a ditty about you… oh, and all of it was good, let me tell you!"

Bowser laughed dryly. "Obviously he left a few things out."

Lakitu shook his head, smirking. "If only; this was the first man to whom I have ever spoken about illegal racing and immediately became more cheerful. I clearly have my work cut out with the both of you."

As Dry Bones laughed buoyantly, Bowser realized with a jolt that the guy stood a few inches higher than him. Never before in his life had he needed to look up to people…except Rosalina. He shivered for a second time.

Dry Bones' gritty accent jerked him back to reality. "Oh, now, I myself feel for you, Bowser! Believe me, we have our share of get-togethers where I come from… I suppose if I called myself a fan of it I'd receive odd looks…"

This occurred. Bowser did not appreciate people who 'loved' illegal racing. Illegal racing did not exist to be loved. Illegal racing was the servant to thirsty racers off the job for a month or so. 'Fans' of it were homicidal and quite possibly crazies. Or, more likely, posers. He said none of this.

"But two arrests! Two! Of course, the Shy Guy here has yet had to send you up to be judged…" Lakitu grinned in that obnoxious fatherly way he had. "I've yet to see anyone hurt on the streets of my city in an illegal _garage_ race, but—"

"But that's just it!" Dry Bones broke in. "It's for the experts, those whose very lifeblood is but racing itself … no true Driver can live so long between the dry, empty off-seasons…" He gave a great melodramatic sigh.

Bowser huffed on his cigarette. This guy was unreal. Nasty and fake and all too well-rehearsed. _Screw this._

"Not that it is condoned, here. But, to the point! I'd shown you the video from the last race at Dino Dino Valley, had I not?"

Bowser froze at Lakitu's words. He'd shown Dry Bones the little dodging routine. It couldn't have even lasted three seconds in real time. Man, this was easy. Too easy. Karma was bound to punch him in the face soon enough. He never had luck like this, never. Just money.

Good luck always came paired with bad luck.

"Oh, yes, oh yes… that was some of the best swerving I've seen in my life! You, young man, are easily one of the best drivers in the country. I'm assuming you'll be riding the All-Cup tourney in four weeks?"

Bowser pursed his lips, but Lakitu answered for him.

"Oh, of course he is! But he'll be needing another few time trial hours if he's going to aim for First," Lakitu teased.

Bowser exhaled sharply, white smoke jetting out and evaporating into the air. "Actually, sir…"

Lakitu started. "Something wrong?"

"It's… well, it's really complicated, to tell the truth, but I'm currently in the market for a Thrower, hopefully someone capable of driving as well…"

"You're missing a Thrower? But what of young Koopa Troopa? He hasn't suffered injury, has he?"

Bowser shook his head. "No, but someone else needed him more than I did. We found a potential Thrower—his girlfriend, if you know what I mean—who was only able to come here to race if Koopa would drive for her. So he's out of the picture."

Dry Bones raised an eyebrow. "Why, that's terrible! You're going to attempt to find and train a Thrower at Koopa's level in under a month? And for the All-Cup, much less?"

The prick just had to rub it in. Bowser nodded and puffed on the cigarette.

"Well, now, that just won't do! Come, sit down, surely the three of us can discuss this over a decent meal— unless you're waiting for someone, that is—"

"Oh, no, I came by myself for the night. It's a…nice place." _What's happening to me?_

Lakitu led Bowser and Dry Bones to a small round table near the glass pane. It aimed south, now, what with the room's constant rotation. Darling.

"Oh, yes, a large Sashimi, if you will… no, just water… thank you kindly…" He handed the menu to the waiter. Bowser ordered steak and coffee, while Lakitu requested shrimp and tea.

"In case I've not yet mentioned this, Bowser, I'm head of a development area of the Federal Bureau of Racing. Luckily for you, certain people have been volunteering to our experimentation. At the moment, we're developing a lovely bunch of people your age with some interesting Items, which of course paves the way for a group of high-classed Throwers…"

Bowser raised an eyebrow. "What kind of Items?"

Dry Bones laughed. "Oh, all sorts of things! And as it would be a shame for someone with your talent to have to stray from something as great as the All-Cup due only to a lack of partner, why don't we look into what we have? Of course, if you're too busy—"

"You'd find him a brand new Thrower?" Lakitu murmured, sipping his tea. Dry Bones nodded, grinning.

"But of course! I am quite eager to see this young man's potential tapped. Oh, yes, indeed. And do we have quite a handful at the lab! It has been a long hard road to success of this caliber—"

"What exactly are you doing to them that brings out this so-called 'ability'?" Bowser asked before chomping on a hunk of steak. Righteous.

"Oh, a few performance-enhancing exercises, some one-on-one skill sessions… I assure you, it's completely legal! Lakitu here can vouch for me, no?"

Lakitu laughed but said nothing. Bowser took his uncle's words to heart but remained silent as well.

_Controversy_.

What could this guy be doing to innocent racers?

"Heh… well, in any case, do give me a call. Here's my card…" Dry Bones pulled a vibrant white card from his breast pocket and held it out to Bowser. "I'll be in town for a while yet, what with the free All-Cup tickets from good Lakitu here!"

They dined.

Afterwards, Bowser kindly volunteered to drive them to the racetrack in his Hummer. In spite of himself, he relished Dry Bones' yelp of excitement at the sight of the vehicle. He drove while skeleton-man took shotgun and Lakitu buzzed about in the backseat.

"What a fine vehicle! My _goodness_! So comfortable… I must look into these… normally I'm not a fan of gas guzzlers, but…"

Bowser smirked and put the pseudo-tank in gear. It purred like a cougar.

As they sped through the well-light downtown streets, Lakitu and Dry Bones mostly made jokes and small talk. Nothing suspicious. Bowser zoned out, letting the mood of the city engulf him. It was nice to lose touch with the real world once in a while.

"Well, this is our stop. Bowser, thank you very much for saving us from the demonic public transportation systems here… Dry Bones, you absolutely _must_see the view from the commenter's box, fantastic…" Lakitu nodded to Bowser and slid out of the car. Dry Bones leaned over the side of the driver's seat, his head just millimeters from brushing the high ceiling.

"Keep in mind my offer, young man. We've been eager—excuse me, _they_ have been eager—to race—by all means. Whatever you ask is our greatest pleasure."

"Actually… I'd really like to be able to at least train with someone, do you know what I mean? Like, I'd rather have a sucky Thrower that I could train with for a month than a perfect one that I'd meet the day before the race…"

Dry Bones nodded vivaciously, his black eyes gleaming. "I know just what you mean! Give me a call and we'll bring 'em to the city…" He patted Bowser on the back and stepped out onto the plaza in front of the Mushroom City Raceway Hall of Fame, following Lakitu into the building.

Bowser drove to a nearby parking lot, cut the engine, rolled down the window, and lit up. He had thinking to do. Critical thinking.

Would it be worth it?

He pulled Dry Bones' card out of his pocket and examined it in the light of the flood lamps. _Dr. Dry Bones, Ph.D._, it said. What exactly did the guy have a doctorate degree in? The guy hadn't talked about himself—or even his 'experiments'—at all. Bowser read the phone number, the address, the office number—had to be underground—and his cell number.

There was a slogan at the bottom. _Granting power to those who ask. _How sappy.

The whole evening had been sappy. That guy's entire speech had been sappy. He was milking Bowser, persuading him… they'd been shooting the bull all night and he still didn't know what the guy was really up to. People never throw free things at you without expecting stuff in return. This sure as hell wasn't Mardi Gras.

If there was one thing Bowser hated, aside from cold temperatures and Boo Ridley and maybe a couple of other things, it was the people who kissed his ass only in hopes of getting something from him.

Had it been Kamek, who'd said it? _People will want you. You are a symbol of hope to them, you and your money. They will do whatever they can and stoop to all levels to get close to you._

And then he left, the day Bowser turned eighteen. Nothing left to say.

But all in all he'd been okay.

Bowser wasn't completely lonely, either. He had Koopa and Daisy and Louie and Wally and Wario. And Baby B and the Toadster. He had the Shy Guys and Lakitu.

And plenty of enemies to boot. But they mattered not.

Bowser sunk lower into the seat and took another drag on the cigarette. Yeah, the smoking was probably annoying to a lot of people. He should quit soon.

An emergency siren was sounding somewhere. No, not a police car… sure enough, a red blur manifested in front of Bowser's eyes and disappeared just as quickly on the feeder road his car faced. Something was burning somewhere. Probably struck by lightning.

Hmm… that was an idea. Bowser had always wanted to drive a fire truck when he was little, before he had become interested in Kart racing. Maybe if he retired from the racing career, he could drive a fire truck. Stuff burned all the time. Hell, he'd burn something himself, just to have an excuse to bypass traffic. What a thought…

Boy, was he tired. Why? He'd only just woken up at eleven. Normal. Why, then?

The day had been long and emotional. For him, that is. Long and emotional for him and maybe a few other close associates.

It began to rain again. Bowser sighed, started the engine, and rolled up the window. He'd better head back west.

But Dry Bones' words kept returning to him the entire trip home. That, and the ever-present guilt of some sort. What the hell did he have to be guilty about? Nothing!

…The fact that he needed to find a Thrower—a good one—and quickly. There was only so much training one could put away in one month.

Finally the main part of downtown had disappeared behind him. Bowser found himself in midtown, where Daisy and Luigi lived on the first floor of a ratty apartment complex across from a city tunneling worker named Montey. Koopa lived on the fourth floor of another complex further down the street. It only had enough parking space for a Vespa or two, but Bowser liked to hang there nonetheless. The abundance of shiny gadgets Koopa owned didn't hurt.

Rain began to blur out the windshield, so Bowser activated the wipers. They waved hypnotically in front of him, lulling his mind back to the present crisis.

He had to find a Thrower. He should have done it today, before the bureau shut down for the weekend. Now he'd have to wait until Monday for the orthodox method. _Blast_.

He pulled into the castle and parked the Hummer closer to the back, behind his Lexus collection. Not that he ever drove Lexuses. Too Lexusy. In any case, he had no wish to see the Hummer for a while. Better to let the memories fade from it first. But as he ascended the stone steps into the main level the same question continued to pester him.

Could he wait until Monday?

He would have to wait in line behind another thousand newbies. Christ.

Could he trust Dry Bones?

No. Of course not. That was obvious and had been so from the start.

But he needed someone as good as Koopa had been.

Badly.

After all, it did take two people to race. No matter how great you could be as a driver, your time would never match that of someone paired with a Thrower.

Hell, it was worth a shot. And if that didn't come through… well, there was always Monday.

Bowser was a fine driver. He really didn't need _that_ much of a Thrower, now, did he? There wouldn't be any harm in it, would there?

Hours later, after checking in with Daisy and taking a long, pounding shower, he sat down at the long-unused dining table and pulled out his cell phone and the card.

Dry Bones picked up on the fourth ring.

"You got Dry Bones. How can I—"

"It's Bowser."

"Bowser! Long time, no see, eh? So, how can I help you?"

"Um… are you doing anything huge tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Nothing critical… a luncheon, but I could send someone else to represent… are you calling for what I think you're calling for?"

"Maybe. I've gone over my options."

"Just what I needed to hear! Can you get back to the Tower by ten? We could talk over breakfast…"

Ten was good. Ten was fine. "Sure. No problem."

"Splendid!"

Bowser nearly hung up at that point. What kind of prick ran around shouting the word "splendid"? No one with whom he'd prefer to associate. Christ.

"Well then, we're set up. This is completely free, by the way. Just giving us—that is, the racers—a chance to test their skills—is worth everything. We could even sponsor your Kart, arrange your travels for the tracks out of the country—after all, there are sixteen races, two in Sarasaland—anything you want, do you hear, young man? Anything!"

"Um, thank you, sir…"

"Oh, thank _you_! See you soon!" He hung up.

Bowser closed his eyes and snapped his cell phone shut. What had he gotten himself into?

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o


	4. Kinoko Toadette

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Four

The city lay before him, a gigantic glowing skirt around the Tower. Ten, the stupid corpse had told him. Ten o'clock had passed thirty minutes ago.

_What are you trying to pull?_

Bowser lit a cigarette angrily. Five more minutes and he was out of here. What a waste of a Saturday morning. The noise here was unbearable. Damn the rich.

"Bowser! So sorry I couldn't make it here earlier! Oh, what with all the traffic, you'd think that taxis—"

"Don't ever take a taxi here. I thought Lakitu would've told you."

"Heh, oh, I do believe he'd mentioned something like that…"

_Then why didn't you listen?_ Bowser closed his eyes and took another pull on the cigarette. The bureau was starting to look _really_ good now.

"Well, come on, then… let's do this over a nice meal, now, shall we?" They sat down at the same round table as the one last night.

"Hmm… the sashimi here sure was good…" Dry Bones looked pleasantly over the menu. Bowser had decided a long time ago that he wasn't hungry. How come the guy always wanted to talk over food?

"Now, then… where is that dratted folder? Oh, yes…" Dry Bones reached for his briefcase and pulled a thin black binder from its depths. A waiter came and took their order—"Only coffee? Are you absolutely sure? I'm paying, you know!"—before he finally opened it up.

"Here's where I keep the data on our subjects… if you could give me some general ideas as to what you're looking for… oh, I don't know, a particular weight, per se…"

Bowser licked his lips. Koopa had been considered a 'lightweight' what with his shortness… but Bowser himself classed as a heavyweight. In any case, their Kart was huge; he'd need a lightweight, then, to keep from weighing it down overmuch in the rough.

"Someone like Koopa— a lightweight— our Kart's enormous so we'd need as little weight as possible…"

Dry Bones laughed and nodded quickly. "I see! I see! Oh, yes, we do have quite a few lightweights… hmm… you're interested in speed, I'm assuming?"

"Well, sorta… Koopa had a lot of firepower, but so did I…"

"Then perhaps you should try to balance it out! I'm eager to see the giant shells again… there's only one other person besides you in the city capable of wielding them, as far as I know, but seeing as you don't throw too often, I suppose it would the times you came up with a shell are few and far between… not that there aren't any! That other young man… oh, what was his name…"

Bowser nodded. "He's a good friend of mine. We call him Baby."

Dry Bones laughed, sipping from his cocktail. "How cute! I should have known you two would be cohorts, with such a fantastic Item... my, my, my…"

"But you really have a person who volunteered to go through your experiments to be a better racer? Who just happens to be what I'm looking for?" Why was his heart pounding?

Dry Bones sighed happily. "But of course! That was the whole reason the students joined, you see—so they could race with the professionals! Under normal conditions, you must understand, they would be unable to do much racing at all… unfortunate diseases and whatnot…"

Bowser blinked. Now this guy was sounding like goddamn charity dealer or something—his cell phone rang. He let it be.

"Going to pick that up?" Dry Bones asked, flipping through the notebook. He laughed as Bowser shook his head. "Now, they'll have to have a place to stay… you're to train it, no? We could find a decent hotel here… no use having them continue living at the lab, once they return to the public…" That sounded creepy, if anything.

"I… I could house it… my place has extra rooms…" He'd have to tell the Thrower to keep it quiet about the castle. chewed his tongue. The thing wouldn't have any money, would it? Clothes? No furniture to move in…

He laughed internally, thinking of the thing's first impression upon sighting the castle, the dark stone towers, iron gates, the moat filled with lava… suddenly, he felt very tired… maybe this was the nicotine affecting him. Why else would he be this drowsy twenty four-seven?

"Ah, then… very well. We can get you a fine lightweight here by noon tomorrow. Is that time enough? The labs are back in the desert—a bit of a drive for you—so it'd be much simpler to get it an airplane ticket to the airport downtown…"

"That's… that's fine… is it, like, going to be its first time— ?"

"Out of the lab? Pretty much! Our oldest subjects have lived in the labs for a good ten years! Oh, but you could show them around town… find it a job…"

Hold it. "Will it be a boy or girl?" Bowser had suddenly realized they'd called it an 'it' or 'thing' the entire time.

"Hmm… I'll have to check with the labs… we have many of both…" He flipped through the folder again. Bowser paled at the thought of a girl living within the walls of the castle. He'd have to feed her, take care of her, buy the scary clothes and perfumes and soaps and stuff they'd normally buy on their own…

Of course, having lived in a lab for ten years, maybe it would have ended up devoid of all characteristics of a girl. Maybe he could borrow some clothes from Baby and make it pretend to be a guy—

But that would be so _mean_! He lit another cigarette. Lord. Well, he'd have to hope for the best.

"…has the Golden Mushroom! Definite winner of pick-me-ups we've seen yet. I'll be surprised if—"

"Hn?" Bowser jerked himself back to attention.

"Oh, you'll like it, I have a feeling you will… if it's speed you want… well, we're all set! Lightweight with a decent specially-classed Item to boot, speed in this case. I'll call the lab, and secure it a ticket… if you get to the airport by one…" He began typing on a Blackberry. "By one… yes, yes, Mushroom City Downtown Airport. Flight two-oh-oh-four-eight-eleven arrives at one-oh-five at gate thirty-six-A. Yes…"

Bowser gulped down his coffee. No going back now.

"Ah, there we go… all set!" He stuffed the computer back into his pocket joyfully. Bowser threw his cigarette into a nearby ashtray while a bus boy cleared the table. Dry Bones stood up.

"Now, if you have any questions, any at all, you just say so! Do you still have my card?" he asked. Bowser nodded slowly. Still in his jeans pocket, as a matter of fact.

"Perfect. Well, it was a pleasure working with you. Don't forget to call once it's arrived!" They took the elevator down to ground level, and Dry Bones departed with an obvious spring in his step. Bowser folded his arms as the elevator door slid shut and took him to the third basement, where his car was parked.

_I'm either lucky beyond imagination,_ he thought, _or screwed for life_. There was no way this guy Dry Bones would let anything in between happen. No way at all. God.

Bowser stepped into the parking garage, lit another cigarette, and headed into midtown.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"Where the hell you been? I called you!"

"You know I don't pick up my cell," Bowser growled, locking his car. Koopa planted his hands on his hips.

"You have, lately! So what were you doing?"

"Finding me another Thrower, honestly. What'd you hear from Baby?"

Koopa sighed and followed Bowser into Daisy's apartment patio. "No guards, the entire night. None. Wally wants to make sure, though, so he's doing the same thing tonight. They can live with a 24-hour delay, it's not like we're talking life and death or anything…"

"Good. Better him than Luigi."

Koopa nodded. "That guy couldn't stay awake all night to save his life." He knocked on the front door. Daisy peeked through the eyehole before opening the door for them.

"Hey. Baby's here… so's Toad… Louie went to get some food." Daisy peered at the bloom coach through the windows to the garage.

"That's nice. Hey, Toadster."

Toad looked up from the television. "Yo Baby, the King showed up," he called toward the kitchen.

"About time," Bowser heard Baby call from the kitchen. The kid's name was not actually Baby, but he sure as hell did look like a plausible offspring of Bowser himself. The fact that they happened to share a relatively common name did not help.

"Where were you two last night?"

"School dance— just one they threw together in the gym, nothing special. Daisy let us in. I don't want to go home while my parents are still here." Toad pulled out a Nintendo DS and began tapping away.

Koopa clicked the apartment door shut and turned to Bowser, crossing his arms. "Tell the truth! What were you doing? The bureau's closed on weekends!"

"Bowser, what were you doing with the bureau?" Daisy asked, plopping down on an armchair.

"I wasn't at the bureau! God!"

"Yeah, Koopa, why would Bowser be at the bureau?"

Koopa closed his eyes. "That's what I was about to tell you when he pulled in. We discussed this yesterday— I'm gonna be driving for Paratroopa for the All-Cup. No choice. End of story."

Toad jerked awake. "How come? Parents?"

Koopa nodded grudgingly. "So Bow's gotta find himself a spare, at least for another year or so… but not 'til Monday, that's when it opens again—"

"No, actually. Remember the guy I told you about, the one my uncle wanted me to introduce myself to?"

"Yeah, you said something like that…"

"What guy?" Daisy asked.

"Yeah, Bow, you need to tell us this stuff—"

"Businessman, works in the development section of the FBR. Name was Dry Bones."

No response save for a quick glance from Toad. Trust the kid to keep up with influential figures like that. Now that Bowser remembered, Toad had been one of the smartest people at his high school even as a freshman. If everything went well for the kid, including his part-time job assisting at a local law firm, Toad actually had a chance of making it into the country's top prep school— Subcon, out in the desert.

"Well, that's cool for you, I guess. Hope the Thrower isn't completely weak." Daisy shut the television off. "I mean, we have a whole month before the All-Cup, and seriously, Bowser, if anyone can train a noob, it'd be you. You're definitely the greatest racer in the—" The doorbell rang and Daisy sprang up.

"She's got a point, Bow," Toad replied. "If anyone's got a chance at still cleaning up at the Tourney with a month to trainer a Thrower, it'd be you. Or maybe Rosa—"

"Pizza," Luigi called as he entered the den.

"Great, I'm starved," Koopa said, yanking the box from the Luigi's hands.

"Give that back!"

"What, you didn't get a pizza for the rest of them? How inconsiderate!"

"Hey!" Daisy called, bolting to her feet. "I wanted it in the first place!"

Koopa ran around the room, Luigi chasing him, closely followed by Daisy. Baby walked in from the kitchen with a six pack of cokes.

"What's with them?" he asked, eyeing the chase going on in the room.

"Pizza battle," Toad replied. "Do something, Bow. You're the leader."

Bowser laughed through his nose and pulled out his a pack and lighter. All three runners stopped.

"Not in here, man! The place smells enough as it is—OW—hey, gimme!" Luigi grabbed the box and set it on the table as Bowser returned the items to his jacket pocket, grinning.

"Ow! Argh… mmm, cheesy…" Baby cracked a can open and chugged the soda immediately. "So what time is the Thrower showing up? Or do you go pick it up…?"

"Watch it, you'll burn your mouth." Luigi swallowed. "What new Thrower? You mean Koopa's girl?"

Bowser shook his head, reclining back in the sofa. "I was briefly in the market for a Thrower since Koopa's gonna drive for Paratroopa. I met a guy from the FBR and Lakitu at the Tower last night, and—"

"The Tower? The hell d'you go to the Tower for?"

"My uncle told me to."

"Great excuse. I bet your uncle told you to smoke." Daisy grinned.

"Shut up. So he told me he could get me a Thrower. Someone… argh, now I feel bad about it…"

"Is it a robot?" Luigi asked.

Bowser laughed, sprinkling chili pepper onto his pizza slice. "Hopefully not. Although it'd probably be easier to put up with than another person." He laughed in spite of himself at the thought.

"Oh God. Well surely he'd—hey, Bowser, leave some for me!"

"Relax, there's another two cases of it over there."

"Good thing Wario's not here, or we'd be outta garlic by now," Daisy murmured. The others laughed.

"So, wait, who's staking the garage out tonight?" Luigi asked suddenly.

"Wally called and said he and Wario'd do it," Baby said. He jerked Toad's beanie off and yanked it over his own head.

"Hey, give it back—" Toad reclaimed it and pulled it back over his own blonde tresses.

The night passed in relative peace; around eleven, Luigi and Koopa had challenged the kids to a Brawl tourney and a screaming fit quickly ensued. Bowser rolled his eyes, having spent the entire time touching up the Bloom Coach's paint with Daisy. Perhaps the fumes were starting to get to him.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Naturally, the plane was late. Something about a high-reaching sandstorm on the outskirts of Dry Dry Desert.

Not cool.

He would have minded the whole situation far less had the officials allowed him to smoke. No go. Craving nicotine, Bowser fumed next to a high window overlooking the many landing strips.

A Shy Guy in a fetching blue and gold suit strode up to him. "Why, would sir be Mister Bowser, nephew to his majesty King Koopa?"

"Um, yeah… that's me…"

"I thought as much! The plane should land within the next minute or so… I'm representing for Doctor Dry Bones, as he is currently unavailable at the moment…"

Bowser started. "How come?"

"Oh, some accident in one of the Sarasland labs… sounded a tad flustered, if you ask me…in any case, the sandstorms are preventing more planes from leaving for the moment. Good thing his Thrower managed to get an earlier flight; smart one, oh yes."

Bowser gritted his teeth. That sure didn't sound good. Give it another three days and the possibility would be very high that a bunch of mutant Kart racers would take over the country demanding brains—

"Ah, there she is now!" the Shy Guy exclaimed as the plane landed. They faced the ceiling-high window overlooking the landing strips. _He meant the plane, _Bowser prayed. '_She' was a reference to the plane. He meant the plane. He meant the plane._

"Guess we'd better get ready," the Shy Guy piped, heading towards the gate. Bowser followed, quick and silent. Crowds spilled into the waiting area. Plenty of people… desert folk…Piantas stumbling in after several back-to-back flights from Isle Delfino… two bemused Noki women… oh, no.

The Shy Guy began to wave hysterically in the direction of someone so short, Bowser could barely see the top of… _her_… head. A second later, she came into view.

It was a girl. Positively, undeniably female. Awfully slender, about Baby's height… maybe a _little_ taller… a little past his elbow, then… for starters, she had the thickest, curliest tamarisk pink hair Bowser had seen in his lifetime.

"Toadette! Toadette! This way, dear!" The Shy Guy was calling to her. Bowser suddenly felt his throat freeze over. Not cool.

He'd asked for a Thrower and they'd sent him a doll.

They girl looked around for a moment, trying to locate the voice calling her name—Toadette, Bowser thought. Common enough—until a mini-Wiggler bus plowed her aside and all gravity of the situation died. He grimaced, yet again wishing he could pull out a cigarette.

Of course, Bowser thought irately. It's her first time in town. Someone would have to teach her the consequences of standing still for too long. Mushroom City _was_ famous for its alarming number of hit-and-runs, even by airport shuttles.

He watched her stand neatly back up and continue heading their way. Tough chick. Despite all else, he felt a spark of hope alight within him.

"Ah, there you are, my dear! Toadette, I have the honor of introducing you to Bowser, nephew of the great Koopa King Saulus Giga-Bowser himself!" The Shy Guy wrapped an arm around her shoulder—at least she was taller than _someone_ in this place, Bowser thought—and guided her towards him, not even looking at her face. The girl appeared little short of terrified.

And she had every right to be. For someone who had never left a 'lab' in several years, she'd been transported away from everything she'd known on an airplane, no less, only to be greeted by a short, inconsiderate fat guy and a giant, muscular— and grumpy— redhead covered in spikes. Yeesh.

The girl herself wore standard issue-esque slacks and a black tee. Her hair had been pulled back out of her face, not with elastic but with a fat white ribbon. He cringed internally, imagining trying to pull that pink mass into a rubber band.

"It's Toadette?" he asked quietly, making sure to keep eye contact— succeeding where the Shy Guy had failed. _Eye contact shows people you care_, Kamek had often preached, to his constant chagrin. The girl was so short he had to drop to one knee to look at her dead-on. She nodded, still looking quite confused, and shook his hand. Firmer grip than he expected. "Nice to meet you."

"Heh, she's a little shy… it's been, oh, what? Ten years, dear? Oh, how utterly exciting this must be for you!"

_I want to shoot you in the head. Right now_. The Shy Guy was just as stupid as Dry Bones himself. He scoffed and stood back up.

"You got any luggage?" he asked her. Toadette's brow furrowed. "You know. Briefcase, bag… anything…"

"No," she whispered. Her voice was ridiculously high pitched, even more so than Peach's; with different proportions, she could have easily passed for a nine-year-old. "No luggage."

This surprised Bowser. No Earthly possessions whatsoever? What the hell? "Really? Well… I could get my friend to take you shopping… I'm not good at any of that stuff..."

"That does sound splendid," the Shy Guy cried joyously. Bowser shuddered involuntarily at his least favorite word. _Get me out of here before I start breathing fire. Please._

"So, do I gotta sign anything, or...?"

The Shy Guy shook his head. "Not at all! Toadette volunteered to come herself! If there's anything else I can do, you just say the word—here, here's my card—" He handed a card to Bowser, who vowed to burn it as soon as the opportunity arose. "So fine meeting you, young master! Do give a good word to your uncle when you get the chance!" He was off.

Bowser shook his damn head. What a freak show this had turned out to be. God… he glanced down at Toadette again. She was pretty pale, he noticed. Probably had spent most of her life indoors. _Nuts_.

"You want something to eat? I bet even you were smart enough not to eat the shit they serve on the planes…"

"True," she whispered again, making a strained attempt to look cheerful. That made Bowser happy. She could talk.

"Hmm… food… whaddya like? We got every kind of food on the face of the earth here, if you know where to look. Heh."

Toadette blinked. "I… don't know…"

Bowser shrugged. They took the elevator down to the parking garage, where he helped her into the BMW he'd brought, knowing he'd be getting a lightweight. It was pretty much his smallest car, save for the Lexuses. But Bowser didn't drive Lexuses.

They drove up onto the streets. At least the rain had stopped for a while. Maybe he could show her around a bit. She might as well learn. God forbid he lose Dry Bones' science project in one of the largest cities on the planet.

"This is the airport drive. You keep heading north, you'll reach Main. Pretty much every street in town can be accessed by Main Street… you're in Mushroom City. Pedestrians here do not have the right-of-way. You try to cross the street, most dangerous thing you'll do all day."

Toadette nodded, her vivid green eyes sparkling. She inhaled sharply as though having just remembered something important. "Rice?"

Bowser nodded, spotting a curbside sushi bar up a ways. "You want some rice? This place is pretty decent… the snobs avoid it 'cause it's cheaper than the stuff they're used to paying…" He pulled in front of it and dropped a few golden coins into the parking meter.

"Coins?" Her eyes gleamed. Maybe she had never seen money before…?

Bowser looked back at her and nodded, holding a yellow coin between the tips of his fingers. "You're back in the Starman Province of the Mushroom Kingdom, and this is the main currency. I have no clue what they use in the desert, but you're going to need cash if you want to get around." He locked the car and they trudged up the sidewalk into the café. It was beginning to rain; he went ahead and held the door for her.

"Thank you," she murmured. Bowser started; it had been a while since someone had said that phrase to him, and had actually meant it. Mostly loser guys like Dry Bones. Ugh.

"You're welcome! Oh, uh… table for two… yeah, smoking…" The Noki seating hostess nodded and led them to a table close to the kitchen. The whole place was tranquil and balmy, as though they had warped to the bottom of the ocean. Fish tanks and paper screens paneled the walls.

"You… smoke?" she asked quietly as she sat down. Bowser nodded, pulling out his lighter.

"Yeah. Don't mind me. It's a bad habit." He grinned. "You ever tried one?"

Toadette shook her head. Bowser had thought as much. "We… in the lab… no smoking allowed. If the smoke set off the alarm, then the sprinklers would activate, and the water would ruin the equipment." It was the longest sentence she'd uttered yet. Bowser nearly applauded.

"Good day! Start with appetizer?" Another Noki. Bowser loved those guys. This one barely reached the tabletop.

"Naw… can we get a large order of fried rice and two plates?"

"Yeh. Drink?"

"Uh, coffee. Toadette, whaddya want to drink?"

"Water please."

The Noki nodded and scribbled everything down. "Be six minute. Anything else I to get you?"

Toadette shook her head to him.

"Nah."

"Okay," he replied before leaving. Bowser liked that about Nokis; no shooting the bull there. He'd had to act charming way too many times this past weekend already.

"Bowser…"

"Yeah?" He lit the cigarette. Toadette blinked.

"What… time is it?"

"Right now?" He checked his watch. "About two."

"In the morning?"

Bowser froze. _Oh._

"Oh, right. Toadette—here—it's— it always looks like nighttime here, even in the afternoon… it's hard to explain… lemme think…" He closed his eyes. The girl was used to the idea of sunlight, then. _Lucky_.

"It's because of the cars. Ever since motor vehicles became the main means of transportation… there was pollution, and no way to stop it. The skies just got darker and darker… and now…" He jerked his head towards the window. Rain splattered against the dark glass.

"Only here?"

"As far as I know. No other place in the country's so completely _coated_ in cars. It's like a way of life here…even the capital city has its share of motor vehicles, but they're so good at restricting the chemical output of the engines there that it isn't a problem at all. My—the king used to live here, before he switched the capital city over."

"You're the king's nephew." Her gaze had the intensity of a surgical laser.

Bowser gave a curt nod. "He's letting me stay at his old house here in the exec district. My parents passed away shortly before the council elected him, so he's always funded me and our team's races. Now he mostly lets me handle the money." His stomach gave a lurch. Bad subject. "And it's a lot of money. You saw the car. That was one of many."

"You must feel safe."

Bowser's knee jerked unintentionally. Oh, the irony. "You could put it that way. Without him I couldn't do all of my races. I had a job fixing cars before he took over, but it's been a family tradition to focus on racing. So he… sees to it, I guess you could say. In theory." His throat burned. _Liar, liar…_

Toadette nodded. "No wonder you were able to apply to our program. Only one other person in this province has requested one of the other subjects, and that was years ago."

"Dry Bones and the king are in it deep together, apparently. In any case, my gang's snagged most of the tourneys in the past few years so the government likes to keep us fed enough to keep the public watching."

The Noki returned with the water and coffee. "Everything alright?"

Bowser looked quizzically at Toadette, who nodded. "Yeah, we're fine."

The Noki bowed and left. Bowser took another pull at the cigarette. He knew that it wasn't helping the pollution situation.

"But it wasn't always dark," Toadette whispered. Bowser grinned.

"True. There was once sunlight, just like every other place… maybe it'll come back, one day…"

Toadette nodded slowly.

"You sleepy?"

"No… they let me sleep on the plane…"

"Hmm. Daisy can take you shopping this afternoon. Get you some more clothes… cosmetics… decent bedding… whatever you want…"

"Thank you."

"We need to put that money to use. Seriously, you _ever_ need anything, you tell me. Okay? Dunno how I can make my point any clearer."

Toadette nodded quickly. For a brief instance, Bowser had felt a sort of adrenaline rush at the very idea of being able to take care of someone else, for once. Maybe that was why he was a gang leader. Because he liked to take care of people. Now it was for real. Would he be a successful mother figure yet? Har har har.

"So…" he asked eventually, "what was the lab like? You've lived there a long time, right?"

Toadette nodded slowly. "Yes. They say it was ten years."

"You don't know for sure?"

"It's hard… it was all the same, every day… everyone lost track of time… you could tell me the year, but I wouldn't know it… it wouldn't mean anything to me…"

Bowser lowered the cigarette. "You don't know what year it is?"

"I don't need to. It's all the same."

That was off. That was way off.

"Well, where were you before you joined the experimenting? What was your family like?"

Toadette blinked, then sipped her water. Bowser pulled again at the cigarette, patiently.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

He blinked. "Either way. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. But you like racing?"

He'd hit the jackpot with this one. The girl's entire face lit up like Main Plaza for New Years'.

"Of course I like racing! I'm the second-fastest subject since the program's inception."

"Perfect. Wait 'til you see the Kart. I'm the best driver in the world."

Toadette blinked, then grinned. "If you weren't, they would have sent you another subject. To match your level."

Bowser had to grin. "Am I detecting an ego in there somewhere? Looks like I'm gonna have to keep my back to the wall from now on."

Toadette actually laughed. Laughed! Excellent sign. There was hope after all. "What was your previous partner like?"

Bowser licked his lips. "Oh, Koopa? You'll meet him after a while… actually—oh, God…" He remembered the meet. Tonight. Less than eight hours away. Oh, boy.

"Hn?"

"Toadette…" He closed his eyes for a minute. How to go about this? "Do you know what illegal racing is?"

"Racing that does not take place within government-organized or official amateur tournaments. Races put together by either pros on their time off or anyone with enough resources them together. Forbidden by the FBR on grounds of danger to society and endangering the economy."

Bowser nodded. Naturally they would have brainwashed these people to worship the FBR. Ugh. "Sorta. Do you know what it really is?" He could hardly contain the energy in his voice.

She cocked her head.

"The whole reason it's there… there are racers, see, who need it. Racing, I mean. It's their lifeblood. You know what I mean; you said it yourself—your entire life, it's racing. But—and you'll get this once we've been at this for a while—there's no way that people who devote so much of their time to racing can stand for months on end between the cups. It's cruel. They do it on purpose, to make sure we depend on them and give them everything we have so they stay in business. The FBR, I mean. They thrive off of our skill, so they make us completely dependent on them. For the racing."

Toadette nodded slowly, her brow furrowed. _Please let her work with me._

"So… they get together, and set up a course, and race. It could be in a parking lot for all it matters. Construction site, someone's old family oil plot— I went to one of those once— you name it. Anywhere. The point is, it's real racers with real adrenaline—the same feeling you get in a professional race, Toadette, without the red tape. It does mean that there's serious risk, not just time trials or practice or anything. It's the stuff we live and breathe, real opponents, real obstacles, real racing. It's our lifestyle here. You'll see in a bit."

Thankfully, Toadette laughed. "You set up illegal races?"

"Yeah. Nothing to be proud of, but we need it. In case I need to repeat myself for the hundredth time."

Toadette smiled softly. He eyes seemed to disappear within her head. "You usually win?"

"Heh. I like to. This guy who went to my high school likes to think he's a good challenge for me. Honestly as long as I can beat Boo I don't care who gets first. I think the only one who really races for the money is my friend Baby— the gambling money on those races makes up most of his income." The thought often bothered him. "Two guys in my gang, Wario and Waluigi— they spend most of their time organizing the gambling for those. Since it's under the table, all the more precaution that's gotta be taken to keep the feds from busting in. Can be a headache sometimes." He omitted the detail of his two arrests back in high school. That had been before the Wario brothers' involvement, anyways.

"But you're still racing in the All-Cup, right?" Her expression looked nearly strained.

Bowser laughed. "Yeah. No doubt. I just like to pull stunts like these in my down time. No," he continued, giving a hopefully reassuring smile, "You and I are definitely going into the All-Cup. Just look at street gigs like this as a way to practice."

"Got it." She did look relieved.

The rice came and they tucked in. As first impressions went, this one would definitely earn some trophy or other.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o


	5. Boo Ridley

Thank you Turquoise Echoes for your helpful review. I went back and found a ton of grammar and spelling mistakes in this chapter alone and will be making slight corrections to the others today and tomorrow. Maybe I should write when I'm still fresh and awake rather than 4:30 a.m. Huh.

o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Five

"Daisy, she's gotta breathe!" Bowser grimaced, his heart pounding.

"Oh! Right, sorry—" Daisy gave Toadette one final glomp before setting her back on the ground. "Hi! I'm Daisy! What's your name? How long have you been here? Have you made friends with Bow yet? I know he isn't that sweet when you first meet him but—"

"I—I'm Toadette…" Bowser squeezed her shoulder as she doubled over, panting.

Daisy skipped around the room. "It's Toadette! It's Toadette! Wheeeeeee! Say, have you had lunch yet? I just made chocolate cookies! Usually they're gone by now since I live with a billion guys who eat up everything I make so it's nice to actually have something to offer guests—"

"We had food about thirty minutes ago downtown. You need to take her shopping more than anything."

"You're coming, too! Remember, we gotta pick out the decals for your Kart! Koopa's bringing Paratroopa, too, 'cause she'll need some more furniture for her dorm…"

So Bowser found himself being dragged to Diho Square by the hyper redhead. Luigi had gone to the Grodus Towers to ostensibly help set everything up with Wally and Wario. Traitor.

At least chaos did not permeate the place the way it did during the winter holidays. Most of the people walking around appeared to be Bowser's age or so. He thankfully managed to stop by HKC and buy a cup of coffee to sip, brooding, while Daisy pulled them into her favorite boutiques.

"I don't think this would look good on m—"

"C'mon! Try it anyways! We're here 'til nine, so—"

"Nine? This stays open that long?"

"We gotta get to Grodus by ten… actually, no, I wanna be there an hour early," murmured Bowser, observing a display of two mannequins having a fencing match. Daisy leaned against the wall next to Bowser as Toadette disappeared into the dressing area.

"So she's your new Thrower?"

"Yep," he answered quietly. He felt his stomach freeze in spite of the steaming coffee.

"Is she… I dunno… skilled? Looks kinda…"

"Fragile."

"She—yeah. I always wanted a little sister I could take shopping every day, and I ended up with Louie. Now I'm finally letting my inner older-sister out—"

"She's my age. Well, maybe a year younger… nineteen?… No, maybe eighteen… one of the two."

Daisy choked back a laugh. "Right."

"I'm serious."

Daisy turned to face him. "Nuh-_uh_. She's as old as _me_."

"I think they did something to her that stopped her growth, to ensure she'd stay a lightweight class. I mean, look at her. She's not proportioned like a kid at all. She's a scale model of a normal young adult, just… a foot and a half shorter…"

Daisy nodded, running the tip of her forefinger across her bottom lip.

"Are you disappointed?"

"Hn?"

"Nothing—"

"I don't wanna say. I mean… I'm afraid they'll try to take her back if I try to get another Thrower…"

"You think they would?"

"Those people can do anything, I think."

"But that's just…cruel! What—"

"I'd better see what she can do first."

"Yeah… of course…" Daisy shrugged and turned to a wall covered in jewelry. After a while Toadette stepped back out, looking even girlier in a black blouse and pink skirt.

"Is it okay?"

"Hmm… black's not as great on you as I thought it'd be… we'll get the top in green. Green is definitely one of your colors. Pink and green. Oh, look at these!" Daisy lifted up a set of thin golden bangles and dropped them into one of the three baskets Bowser carried. Lord.

"You're strong," Toadette said, returning from the dressing room with her lab clothes on. Daisy squealed again and grabbed a few sets of chandelier earrings off of a discount rack.

Bowser chuckled. "These? Nothing. Wait til you see my item when we race. They gotta weigh a good sixty pounds each—"

Toadette's eyes suddenly widened to the diameter of saucers. "I've seen you use those on the FBR television channel! It was terrifying!"

"Ahaha. Be grateful that you're on my side then." He sipped his coffee, content.

Daisy handed him back his credit card. "C'mon, Louie's gonna show up soon… Baby's with him; he and Toad wanna race tonight."

"I'd thought so."

At eight, Luigi and Baby caught up with them in the plaza next to an ice-cream stand. Luigi wore his usual racing outfit—his lucky denim overalls and a green shirt and his cap. Baby had clearly just returned from a pre-race gathering, wearing black and neon yellow chain jeans over a tight green sleeveless hoodie and jeans and smelling suspiciously of vanilla. Bowser grinned.

"Toadette, Baby. Baby, Toadette."

"Nice t'meetcha. You a Thrower?"

"Yes, I'm specializing, for now. You…?"

"Yeah. I throw for this guy Toad. You'll meet him soon, and the others… Wally and Wario… they're eating downtown…"

Koopa and Paratroopa showed up. "What up?"

Bowser grinned at the sight. "Koopa, you sure that's your girlfriend and not your twin?" Same tanned face, same soft brown hair with blonde highlights, same height and stocky stature, even. Spooky.

"Oh, are you Bowser?" Her eyes sure were sparkly. Intelligent eyes. Of course; she was a student. Bowser nodded, wary.

"The one and only. Yeah, here's Toadette. New to the city, too… We've tried just about everything to make her talk…"

"Hey!"

"At least she understands when I'm joking now…"

Everyone laughed. Toadette grabbed one of the Candy Violet shopping bags. "I'm gonna go change. Be right back."

"We're not going anywhere," Daisy called to her.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Bowser watched Toadette lick her fingers after finishing a crusty slice of bread, conscious in his own way of the great rush he knew would arrive soon. He was in his zone—a state of power difficult to suppress, vigilance, energy, a hunger for something different from food. Perhaps it was his system instinctively going into pre-racing mode. Adrenaline and testosterone rushed through his veins, making his breathing heavy… he needed to smoke…

He needed to chill. There were people watching.

"Toadette, help me get the ice cream," he murmured. Anything to keep her from falling asleep; she had begun nodding off after finishing her bread.

They headed to the Ben and Jerry's stand a few yards away from the table. Thanks to the open-aired setup of the mall, the sky was visible, immense and dark above their heads. A thin handful of stars shone through the eerie green clouds of smog.

"That'll make driving a _little_ interesting," Bowser muttered to himself. Hopefully no one would suffocate from the fumes. They reached the Ben and Jerrys' counter.

"Um, c'we get four cones… see, Toadette, that's where all the flavors are… um, yeah, smalls, all of them…" Bowser himself did not eat ice cream. Too cold and too sweet. Hmph.

"Can I get this?" she asked, pointing at the peanut-butter flavor. He nodded in approval.

"Sure. Yeah, one chocolate, one strawberry… one of those Phish-Food things… and the peanut butter…" The Shy Guy nodded and scooped the ice cream up, handing the cones to Bowser in succession. He handed Toadette hers and Paratroopa's. "Eat up."

"Thanks."

"No sweat." He paid the Shy Guy (pink aprons here), holding both cones in one hand. They exited the restaurant. For some reason, Bowser could swear that the flowery scent of the place was familiar… too familiar…

"That good?" he asked. Toadette nodded happily, trying what had to be her first ice cream cone in years. That melted Bowser. She looked so much like a little kid at a family outing—almost like something out of a painting, in her white and gold tee and frilly skirt, licking the ice cream under the lamplight. Like a little kid, but…

After handing the cones to Daisy and Paratroopa, he stepped over to a nearby iron streetlamp and lit up, enjoying the silence. A few minutes later he heard footsteps approaching, lighter than raindrops. Toadette sat on the park bench next to him.

"It's good," she said. Probably meant the ice cream. Bowser took a pull at the cigarette.

"You had it before?"

Toadette nodded hesitantly. "Sort of… I remember having it… we couldn't have stuff like this at the lab…"

Bowser glanced back at her, alarmed. "Will you explode if I feed you too much sugar?"

Toadette laughed. "No. I had a feeling they just didn't want us too hyper while they were running tests." She bit into the ice cream, then cringed, swallowing slowly. "It's cold."

"Ha. You're eating it too fast. Put your tongue on the roof of your mouth to cool down your brain."

She tried that. "Wow, I didn't know there was an actual cure for that. Thanks."

Bowser blinked. He'd heard his name. Someone had just called his name.

He looked over his shoulder to see Peach approaching them, wearing a characteristic pink sundress and laden with paper shopping bags. She smelled like cinnamon rolls and euphoria.

"Hey, how are you doing? You don't come here a lot." Her long hair shifted slightly in the breeze.

"I know. Special occasion." He exhaled sharply; hot smoke jetted out and swirled around him, vivid white in the light of the streetlamp.

"Ah. Racing tonight?"

"You could say that."

Peach grinned serenely, knowing too much. Always too much. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

Toadette looked up at her, then averted her eyes, licking the cone idly.

"Hi there," Peach murmured. Bowser lifted a strand of Toadette's hair between two fingers as she looked up at him, her eyes quizzical.

"Tell her your name. This is Peach. From the Mario clan_. _Went to the same high school as me." How much national history did they teach at Dry Bones' labs?

She swallowed. "I'm Toadette." Her eyes sparkled.

Peach lit up. "That looks good… maybe I should get some ice cream before I go. It's been getting warmer lately…" She grinned, squeezing her eyes shut. Bowser continued to play around with Toadette's hair, keeping the cigarette in his mouth. After a while she finished the cone, tossing the paper into an overflowing recycle bin. Peach had been staring at the sky.

"D'you think it's going to rain?" she asked quickly.

"It better not," he growled. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the others getting up from the table. "We gotta run. See you around."

Toadette gave a gentle wave then followed him back to the table. Out of the corner of his eye Bowser watched Peach wave back. She'd give him a heart attack yet.

_Why? Why me? Why him?_

Koopa was seething. "There you two are! Argh, you shouldn't smoke before a race, you idio—"

"Would you rather have me not smoke and then go into withdrawal in the last lap?"

Koopa rolled his eyes. "Whatever. If we leave now we'll be there by nine, what with the traffic… does…" He lowered his voice as Daisy began talking to Toadette. "Does she understand about the whole… deal?"

Bowser nodded. "Enough. She's not gonna squeal on anyone."

"Can you race? Good thing we have a while to warm up… you'd better practice…"

"That's what I was planning on."

"Aight. We're outta here. Sometimes I wanna bomb Main, just to kill the traffic behind us…"

"Ha. Calm down. Go do some breathing exercises with your girlfriend."

"Hey!"

"I'm serious!" He threw the dead cigarette away. "Toadette! We're taking the truck!"

Toadette glanced up at him from her conversation with Daisy, then nodded happily and followed him into the parking lot.

"Let's see… God, this place is on the other side of town…" He piled the shopping bags into the back seat and slammed the door shut. Toadette hopped into shotgun.

"Will it be in a parking lot? On the streets? Will pedestrians know about it?"

"Normally it's in this one lot a few blocks down from here—we'd meet here before the racing… it's because it's far away from any residential districts or apartments. If people are around here long enough, they get pissed and call the cops. You do this somewhere else, you gotta know about it to watch. You gotta want to go there to see it. Safe."

"But it's somewhere else now?"

"Just recently we found this kickass garage east of Airport with a spiral ramp, like the one on Rainbow Road…"

"With the dash panels? I've seen that," she breathed. "They show the Special Cup on the television."

"I hate the place. It's annoying. Challenging, yeah, but annoying as hell."

"Too colorful for you?"

"Heh. You shoulda seen it before they renovated it—had these freaking Chain Chomps that came at you outta nowhere and nearly killed you if you weren't looking… but _that_ was before they added that goddamn vertical ascent vacuum thing. Not cool. Not gonna lie, though. I kinda miss the Chomps." He immediately thought of the toddlers and their exasperating special Item.

"The vertical ascent… it's pretty."

"It's very pretty. When you're not being vacuumed into oblivion."

Toadette laughed. Pleasant sound. "I think I saw you."

"Saw me? When?"

"Racing there! They played the Special Cup two days ago for us. Everyone at the lab loves you."

Bowser nodded, suddenly feeling hungover. She'd seen him tie to the BaBooshka. But— "_loves you_." That was alright.

"I tied that one last week. It sucked."

"Eh. You'll be even with them now that I'm back."

"What?"

She blinked as though just realizing she had said too much. "Uh, never mind. Don't worry about them anymore."

"Something I should know about?"

"Nope. I came here to race, nothing else."

Bowser shrugged and continued to drive. He would find out eventually.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"That was too short…"

Bowser laughed. "It always is. C'mon, we can do another lap…" He drove slowly back to the top of the parking garage. Wally had mapped out the course; start at the top and spiral down to the bottom, then four laps around the lot. A good two minutes or so, but nothing like the organized-race courses…

"We got the Item boxes yet?" Luigi asked him.

Bowser shrugged. "I dunno. Ask Wario."

Spiral drifting took skill, especially if you wanted to pull off a decent Mini-Turbo while doing so. Let alone four.

Bowser had plotted the Kart weight perfectly; if Toadette were any heavier they would get pulled too far into the center of the twist and lose all acceleration. With Bower's Kart in particular, this was no joke.

He had named it the Koopa King. Fitting. It was a huge hunter-green titanium monster, six-wheeled with spiked hubcaps, the front bumper molded into a set of sharp teeth and headlights like leering yellow eyes. Years ago he had found a set of steer horns on the freeway; for a present, Luigi had cast them in steel and affixed them to the hood, giving the Kart even more beastly character.

At five-star weight, the Koopa King took a good ten seconds to get up to its correspondingly five-star max speed. Ten seconds could be fatal in most races. But it also meant Bowser could push anyone he felt like around when in Thrower position. More weight meant more power.

Not that he threw much. But now he had an idea. "You wanna drive?" he asked Toadette.

"Me? I don't think I'm as good as you. They trained me more for my specialized— "

"So practice!" he barked. They switched positions on the fly and Toadette took over. To Bowser's immediate relief, she was actually pretty good. Handling his Kart was no joke. Even Koopa had not yet mastered maneuvering the huge beast, yet Toadette's training or whatever the hell she had been through clearly showed. She nearly managed a Mini-Turbo on the ramp, but let up just before the sparks turned blue. Nerves, he figured. She'd just gotten off the airplane a few hours ago; it seemed nearly cruel of him to make her perform with such a high-strung vehicle. Nonetheless, this was good. He approved.

"See? You almost did it!" he called, sitting on the balance bar behind the driver's seat so he was looking back behind them. But then the Kart swerved to the right.

"Whoa—what was _that_?" he growled, whipping around. Toadette stood up, gazing around the area.

"They threw a fake box at me," she said, turning onto the parking lot.

"Who did?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Him," she said, pointing to King Boo, leaning against his white van with his arms crossed. DK and his snot-nosed nephew jumped from a shitty 1980s Fleetwood in the next space over. On the other hand, Yoshi and Birdo were off in one unlit corner, presumably making out in the dark.

Bowser had nothing against the two aside from their connection with Boo. Yoshi was pretty quiet, known mostly around town for his four-hundred-coin acid green Sony earphones and sick guitar skills— the guy made a good percentage of his income from pub gigs in the midtown, wicked racing skills aside. Lived with his girlfriend in a warehouse condo just east of downtown. Pretty sure he was some kind of Japanese, with close-cut dark hair and tea-colored skin in spite of the city's lack of sunlight. Dressed in a backless leather vest, deconstructed jeans, and dark Vans Prisons, he could have easily masqueraded as a K-pop star from the early 2000s, complete with steel conch and eyebrow piercings.

Bowser held an inexplicable fondness towards Birdo, clad tonight in a _tight_ patent leather jumpsuit and combat boots. Straightedge, she had smoked as heavily as he up until about a year ago, when she'd shaved her hair—now a vivid pink Mohawk—and took up a job in the military teaching English. He was pretty sure she worked part-time at other places as well. She and her boyfriend raced like the devil. Nothing to sniff at. Often they beat Boo and Petey for him.

"Pull it to a stop, Toadette." He jumped off. "Save your weapons for the race, idiot. Or are you too scared to play on an even table? What else is new?"

Boo scoffed and made to reply when a burst of laughter rang out, cutting him off. Wally and Wario pulled their Kart to a stop next to Bowser's, closely followed by Luigi and Daisy. He could feel the grudges piling on top of one another, nearly tangible in the space between the two gangs.

"Aw, you know I'm kiddin', Bowsa," Boo replied, clicking his teeth. "Don't be lettin' every little thing ruin ya evening, huh?"

The trunk opened, and Petey pulled the kart onto the pavement from the inside. Devoid of any particular aerodynamic design whatsoever, it was ugly, gunmetal gray, and as heavy as the Koopa King. Toadette stared at Petey, a completely unreadable look having taken over her face. What…?

"Try not to spend yourself in the first five seconds, Boo. Starting time's eleven. We got us another Kart to enter, too…" He lit a cigarette. "You?"

"Huhuh. Persuaded the Yosh' to bring Birdo in, she don't normally do this garbage. How many Karts per race?"

"Basic Versus setup—four. First race… Wario's and Luigi's Karts. Who you wanna set up with them?"

"DK's and Yoshi's. Me 'n Petey can take on the rest of you people."

"You and your plant against me, Toadette, Koopa, Paratroopa, Toad, _and_ Baby? Someone's cocky."

"Surprised? We've been on the tracks every day since the Special Cup. Knocked a good three seconds off our last time."

_Oh, God._ Bowser closed his eyes and smirked. _Never show fear. _"Cute. So can you drive in a straight line now?"

"Scathing as ever, Bow. Dunno what I'll ever do."

"You could choke to death. Just saying."

"You wish." Boo scoffed and prepared to turn away when his eye caught Toadette. "Who's the doll?"

"New Thrower…" Bowser looked away. There was absolutely nothing intimidating about Toadette. Nothing whatsoever.

"Charmed." He smirked and turned to DK, busy unloading his Barrel Cannon kart from his trailer bed. Bowser returned to Toadette, sitting on the Thrower's pedestal with her legs dangling off the sides.

"You okay?" he asked for what felt like the millionth time that night. She looked up, her face still blank.

"I'm great."

"You're scared of him." _He could kill her_. _He could kill her on accident. He could squash her like a bug. He could mistake her for a bug._

"Nope."

Bowser sighed and sat sideways in the driver's seat. Toadette at barely five feet had every right to be scared of Petey, who was a heavyweight and a good foot taller than Bowser himself. His eerie green Piranha skin shimmered in the lighting as though he were made of venomous emeralds.

Had Bowser actually even seen the guy's face before? He wore black and gold leather steampunk goggles over his eyes and a thick red scarf with minute white polka dots over his mouth twenty-four seven. Creepy as hell if nothing else.

"It'll be okay. He gets too close, you and I can switch places. I can knock that guy around, no problem."

"I can knock him around fine too. Don't worry about me, okay?"

Bowser shrugged, secretly startled at Toadette's pluckiness around Petey. "C'mon. The others're starting in five minutes. Keep practicing." He swung his legs into position and started the Kart. Toadette stood up and held onto the Throwers' bar. Bowser thought of something then.

"Hey, you know what? If you time pushing off right… lemme think… if you time it at the exact same time I hit the gas, we do this thing… it's really cool…"

"You mean a rocket start? I thought it all depended on the Driver—"

"Nope. I'm actually talking about—"

Toadette clapped her hands. "A double-dash! They taught us in the labs. It's one of the first things we learned; the deal is, it really depends on how long you've been with your partner. The more we practice, the more likely we'll boost like that."

"Koopa and I got pretty good at it after a while. Yeah, takes a ton of practice, but makes everything worth it."

"Yep." They reached top of the garage. Overhead, the sky had miraculously cleared, like a sign from God. Stars actually shone.

"You can see the moon," Toadette breathed. Bowser whipped around to find that she was serious. A fat crescent moon gleamed, high in the sky. Lord.

Koopa pulled up next to him, grinning cheerfully. "I didn't know Yoshi was gay. Didn't he—?"

"That's Birdo he's making out with, not a guy," Bowser reminded him.

Koopa froze. "For real? Didn't recognize her with that hair. Be right back." He hopped off his Kart and ran towards where Daisy and the others were chatting animatedly. Toadette wrinkled her brow.

"What just happened?"

"Birdo's racing tonight for the first time in a few months. Been busy with her jobs. I bet they've been practicing, though…they don't look stressed…" Sure as hell not. He wondered idly just _how_ long Yoshi's tongue could—

"Which one is Birdo?"

"Standing next to the guy with the green Sony phones—that's Yoshi—she's the one with all the earrings."

"Pink mohawk?"

"Yep, that'd be her."

"I had to shave my hair off once. I've never cut it since."

Bowser started, struggling to imagine Toadette without hair. "Really? Why?"

She shrugged. "To make sure we were clean or something, I think. It was when I first went to the lab."

"Where is it?"

"The lab? Dry Dry Desert."

"Yeah, but _where_? Underground?"

"That's right. Just beneath the Mushroom Cup track—that's where we'd practice."

"That place is awesome. Once… no, wait, twice, I think—I got to knock Boo into the quicksand."

"Ha! It's scary… but the labs are located beneath those pyramids."

"I see… oh, God…"

Koopa was back. "Sorry 'bout that. Wait, why'd Birdo shave all her hair off again?"

"No idea. Hey, they're lining up…" They turned towards the glowing pink masking-tape starting line, provided by Toad himself. The millions of glow sticks hanging around the garage, the neon signs and lights in the windows of the surrounding buildings, and the stars twinkling above, lit everything quite nicely.

The first races belonged to the teams of the two feuding rulers of Mushroom City: King Bowser and King Boo. A lot of people had gathered now, Bowser noticed; most of them were from around town, whom he did not know personally, who would participate in the subsequent races after the traditional ones between the rivals.

"We go after this race," he told Toadette. "To be honest, I'd hate to go first. You never know if the garage's been cleaned up okay or not. At least by watching these people we'll know what to look for…"

"Start your engines!" bellowed a stray Pianta. You couldn't be more out of place, Bowser thought wistfully. A vibrant orange islander, calling an illegal Kart race in gloomy Mushroom City. Pathetic.

"Three… two… one… GO!" They were off as the flags flew down. Bowser nodded to Toadette and they ran down the spiral staircase to watch the action at each floor. The top three were connected by a single-lane road, but the bottom three floors were only accessible by the long spiral ramp at one end. Virtually whoever made it first would have a serious advantage at the final section of the race.

"Yoshi's in first," Toadette called. Bowser nodded and they flew down the stairs to the ground level, reaching it just as the Karts exploded out of the entrance.

"There they go…" Bowser crossed his arms and watched the Karts race around the parking lot. Yoshi and Birdo were still in the lead, but Louie was slowly catching up… now they were neck and neck—no, then Wario came up with a bomb, passed it to Wally, and he threw it over the side, setting off a huge explosion. Yoshi's Kart spun out as Luigi took the lead.

"In professional racing that could have been what's called a sacrificial move," Bowser explained to Toadette. "There's a team score… as long as someone in your team gets first place, then you get most of the points. At least they're catching up to the ape… they can hold onto third, they're not that bad…"

"I see. That's why he threw the bomb at him and not at DK…"

"Yep. Of course, if he didn't time it right and threw it at DK he could've blown himself up as well."

But Yoshi was back at it. Birdo kept pulling her creepy pink-spotted eggs from the Item boxes. She would bowl one along the ground, and it would hit Luigi's Kart each time without fail. _Target lock-on,_ Bowser remembered.

But that wasn't the end of it. After each impact, three different Items sprung forth from the splintered eggshell. Two mushrooms and a banana. Luigi would snag one of the mushrooms while coming out of a spin, but so would Birdo, and the cycle would begin again. Within seconds she and Yoshi could pass them up—last lap…

"Oh, no, they won," murmured Toadette quietly. Bowser nodded angrily.

"Yeah. Too many Item boxes per lap. I'll have to talk to Wario about that…"

"Wario came in third, like you said."

"Yep. The ape lost. Hahaha." They ran back to the top level and hurriedly got on the Kart. Bowser checked everything over.

"Looks like we're good… you never know what they'll do to your Kart when you're not looking… hmph." He rolled over to the starting position. "Our teams are tied so far. Yoshi and Birdo got four points since we're not counting time margins, and Daisy and Wario's karts got two and one. DK got zero since he came in last."

"All of us against the BaBooshka?" Koopa asked. Baby and Toad pulled up and remained in neutral to Koopa's left. Koopa sat idle to Bowser's left.

"Took you long enough," a voice called as Boo pulled up to their right. But it was Petey who had spoken, his voice soft and deep.

To Bowser's surprise, Toadette spoke up. "I know, I know. I'll make it up to you." She shook her head, smiling.

Boo raised an eyebrow, thinking Toadette had spoken to him. "What?"

"Racers! Start your engines!" the Pianta bellowed again. Bowser did so, then briefly looked back to Toadette. She, like the other Throwers, stood just behind the Kart. On the start signal she would push the Kart forward and jump on. They'd practiced this a few times, but you never knew…

"Three!" He shut his eyes._Memorize the pattern, memorize the pattern, memorize the pattern—_

"TWO!" He heard Boo chuckle softly. If they tried anything, he'd—

"ONE!" _Focus. She'll be okay._

"GO!" He slammed on the gas, not at that precise moment, but a millisecond _later,_ and they rocket-started. Okay, no Double-Dash, but still a nice boost. Toadette was on board.

_The hell's a parked car doing here? Christ—oh, sweet—_ Bowser steered into a break in the pillars that held up the ceiling halfway across the vicinity. Now he was ahead of Boo…

"He's coming up fast!" Toadette called. "Has a triple-Boost or something!"

Bowser nodded. "Hold on!"

He began to power-slide around the inner corners of the garage. They reached the fifth floor… Item Box time. "Gimme a good one, 'kay?"

They sped through it. No worries about running fakes when you were in first place on the first lap.

"Banana!"

"You know what to do!" He steered to the left again, sliding slightly outwards. Toadette tossed it behind her.

"No, he missed it—ow!" Petey shoved her aside; Boo had caught up with him.

"What up, Bow?" Boo called from the driver's seat, using Koopa's pet name for him. He seethed.

"Outta my way, you freak—" He swerved his Kart into Boo's.

_CRUNCH._ As Bowser began to veer back onto the road, he watched in awe as Toadette completely hammered Petey shoulder-first into the concrete wall. _How?— _

Boo's Kart not only to lost speed but spun out entirely. Bowser recaptured the lead with a flourish of the rear tires and a cheerful hand signal to his rival.

"_Nice_!"

Toadette laughed. "Thanks! Your Kart must weigh as much as his, so I have equal strength against him—I'm just faster since I'm lighter!"

"Serious? Excellent! Keep it up!" Too easy.

Fourth floor. Now, where was that ramp… oh, _yes_…

"Watch out!" Toadette called. Bowser just managed to swerve to the left as Boo charged into the lead with a triple Mushroom set. _He must've had to fall back into third place to get that_, Bowser thought angrily. Boo zoomed into the spiral ramp. "There's a Box coming up!"

"We gotta switch!" he called.

"Okay!"

Now Bowser was in Throwing position. _Please, oh God of racing, whoever you are, gimme a—_"YES! Keep driving!"

"Okay!" Toadette could do spirals, but there was no way they'd catch up to Boo now, _except_ for the Item he held in his right hand—

"Be careful!" he shouted, hurling the massive spiked shell forward into the spiral ramp.

"_Whoa_! That should get 'em!" she screamed, a hint of delight apparent in her voice from witnessing Bowser's awe-inspiring giant spiked Shell. "You wanna switch now?"

"Yeah!" Bowser returned to the Driver's seat. Now they were on the second floor. Boo only was just ahead, Petey hanging onto the Kart for dear life; the shell had mauled them.

"—AND YOUR GODDAMN SHELLS!" he screamed back at them. Bowser happily waved, sounding the Kart's horn as he and Toadette closed in on Boo's kart, only hearing the last part of the albino's outburst. Ground floor.

Roaring cheers and cooler winds greeted them as they exited the garage onto the parking lot. Four laps. Two Item boxes per lap. He could do this. Baby and Toad were not far behind…

"We're gonna be switching s'more, you hear?" Bowser called behind him.

"Yeah! I got a Mushroom!"

"Use it!" he bellowed. Now they were right behind Boo—

"Argh!" The fake Item box came out of nowhere. _YOU'RE AN IDIOT! _Bower screamed at himself silently. _RULE NUMBER GODDAMN ONE! DON'T FALL IN JUST BEHIND THE PEOPLE WHO'VE JUST GONE THROUGH THE GODDAMN ITEM BOXES!_

The Kart spun out, but Bowser pulled it back into the race. New Item.

"Red shell!" She threw it without him asking. Smart. Second lap.

"We gotta switch!" he called. They exchanged positions on the fly just as the Kart raced through another Item box. Another Giant Shell… perfect… Bowser chucked it forward with all of his strength.

"It's gonna ricochet!" he called to Toadette. "Keep an eye on it!"

"Got it!" she replied, keeping one hand on the clutch. Boo was slowing down…

"ARGH!" Lightning crossed the sky, and everyone save for Koopa and Paratroopa shrank to a few inches high. Bowser's skin sizzled. _Christ, not now—_

"It's killed our acceleration!" Toadette shouted. Bowser nearly laughed in spite of himself; her new voice sounded like that of a cartoon mouse. But his own voice—

"Do a Mini-Turbo!" he screamed back with the pitch and timbre of a six-year-old boy.

"I can't, remember?"

_That was true_. "Then switch back!"

Bowser brought the speed back up just as they returned to normal size. Boo and Petey were still ahead, though… oh, _crap_…

God damn Spiny Shells. God _damn— _

The eerie blue shell dropped from the sky creamed Boo's Kart, sending it flipping in the wrong direction from the track's curve; unfortunately, Bowser had just caught up with them and noticed the warning on his dashboard too late. They held on for dear life as the Kart flipped; on instinct, he reached back and pulled Toadette against him as he'd done with Koopa a thousand times.

He regained his bearings the moment they quit spinning; the gunmetal Kart was still just ahead of his. "What's he done to his Kart? It can't just speed up like that—"

His own car was one-star acceleration, and nothing felt out of place. So obviously something was up with Boo's, which was supposed to be only one-star as well. _How could he increase speed so much after crashing? Not even pulling a Mini-Turbo—_

"Two more laps!" Toadette called.

"God d—"

"I know! I keep getting bananas," she shrieked. Bowser shook his head and performed another Mini-Turbo, but made sure not to get too close. How the hell was he going to do this now? The road had two lanes, and Boo hogged the middle… if he had a Star, then he could just tackle him, but…"

"We need a Mushroom or something—"

"OW!"

Bowser felt it, too. Someone had hit him with a red shell. Then another. Then _another_.

"KOOPA!" he bellowed angrily. Koopa and Paratroopa sped past, honking as they took second place. Bowser scowled. "We have a higher chance at a Star now—"

Or not. Hit again. This time, by a colossal spiked green shell, but not his own.

Baby's.

They were in last place just before the final lap.

"ARGH!" Bowser tattooed his boot into the pedal, but it with zero effect; passing up Baby again would be the only thing he was capable of… they passed through another Item box, now on Baby's and Toad's tails, per se...

"Whaddya get?" he screamed behind him. No response. He growled. "Toadette, _tell me what you got—_"

"HOLD ON TIGHT!" Toadette bellowed at him. Bowser did so. Maybe she'd gotten a Star. Maybe they could make second place behind Boo, and not third—

The world around them exploded in a blur of color and wind.

"WHAT THE—?"

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

I suppose it would be considered a cliffhanger if you've never played using Toad or Toadette on MKDD… haha.


	6. Bowser's Castle

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Six

"_AHHHHHHHHH_!"

Bowser instinctively leaned over the wheel, pouring all his concentration into controlling the kart as its speed doubled—at the very least. _65 MPH_, the speedometer read. Fastest he'd ever gone in that kart.

When they finally reached a straightaway and Bowser had a chance to look back, he was blinded by the shimmering gold object Toadette held in one hand, using the other to hold onto the Thrower's rail for dear life. Pulsing like a human heart and topped with an equally vibrant crown, Toadette's Golden Mushroom looked at him with serenely blank eyes and for all the world felt just as smug as Bowser did at that same moment.

Baby and Toad fell behind them in a flash—there went Koopa and Paratroopa—and with a graceful swerve, Bowser struck Boo's Kart, sending it flying into the stands before crossing the finish line as the audience roared in delight. They swerved out of the way as Toadette's Item disappeared with a neat _poof_ of shimmering gold dust.

Bowser leapt backwards over the Thrower rail and tossed Toadette in the air, happier than he could remember feeling in years. "TOADETTE—_THAT WAS FANTASTIC_—WHAT—?"

Toadette quickly hugged him and hopped onto the pavement, breathless. "That's my special Item! The Golden Mushroom! Didn't the Doctor talk about it at all…?"

Now that Bowser thought about it, the corpse-man actually had mentioned something at their meeting. Sly bastard. "Yeah, but—I didn't—how come you could boost so many times? What's the mechanism?" The question boggled his mind.

"It lets you rocket forward as many times as possible within a set amount of seconds," Toadette explained gleefully as she skipped in place. "I let it loose since we were so far behind!"

Bowser shook his head, laughing at the sheer unfeasibility of the past ten seconds. Koopa and Paratroopa joined them as Toad and Baby hopped off their Kart, a cheerful Bullet-Bill-shaped number with ri-don-culous top speed for a one-star weight.

"Ha! Look at Boo!" Koopa slapped him on the back as they watch Boo and Petey's kart roll past the glowing line, a show of both misery and humiliation. "What'd you do to him? No way you can claim triple Mushrooms on that—"

"Ha. Nope. That's Toadette's Item that saved the day. What's the team score now?"

"Uh, four and zero for them and…four and two and one is…seven for us. Nice work, gents."

"Let's get out of the way for the next batch."

Bowser and the others returned their Karts to the garage. Daisy and Luigi rushed up, the redhead carrying an ancient camcorder in one hand.

"You gotta see this!" she bellowed, hitting the replay button as the others gathered around. Bowser smirked as he watched a bird's eye view of the Koopa King get hit three times before rushing through an Item box. _There_. Something sparkly appeared in Toadette's hand and they blurred past the other two Karts before knocking Boo off the path and crossing the finish line with a flourish.

"Lemme see that." Daisy started as a pale hand ripped the camera away.

"You learn in kindergarten to not grab, Boo. Problem?"

Boo scrutinized the video before tossing it back to Daisy. "Nuts. You're all nuts. That Item thing can't be legal. Rematch, _now_."

"You can't expect to argue about legal in a civilian race. Use your head." Koopa and Paratroopa laughed.

"Lemme make this clear. Bow, you show up with that thing at the All-Cup, you never gonna hear the end of it from me."

Bowser had to laugh. "Since you ask so nicely, Toadette and her Item are completely legal. From the FBR's research and development department under Dry Bones. Not something money can buy. Have fun modding your engine."

Boo shot Petey a look, one with so little surprise it struck Bowser with suspicion. "Aight. But don't 'spect me to take your crap next week. There's a reason you never beat me in the regionals."

And they were off, loading the gunmetal Kart into Boo's sketchy white Oldsmobile van. Birdo and Yoshi followed, their lizard-like Kart resting in the bed of Birdo's fucshia pickup. DK and Diddy were long gone after their pummeling in the first race.

"Ha!" Daisy snapped her camera screen shut. "He sure took it rough. I'd kill to have one of those retro Ghost Items next time I race with you, Bow."

"And steal her Item? I don't think so."

"You could always ram him with your own Mushroom, Daisy," Luigi murmured. "Right before they use that thing. Hate to have to time that, though."

The gang laughed collectively. Wario and Waluigi emerged from the crowds, each laden with thick leather sacks of what had to be coins.

"_WE MADE A KILLING_! Bow, catch!" Wario tossed him one of the sacks, which turned out to be surprisingly heavy. "Guess-a what happened."

Not difficult to guess. "Everyone knew Boo had been practicing every day and expected us to lose. And we didn't."

"Wario, you didn't put _all _your money on Bow, did you?" Koopa winced. "That could have turned out so badly—"

"Eh. What can I say? Greed is good. Bow, you keepa that. Here, everybody take one."

"Damn. So much for being a poor college student." Paratroopa gleefully pocketed her sack. "Glad I met you all, to say the least."

"Hey, that was some nice racing on your part," Bowser countered. "Those were your triple red shells? _Holy_ shit. So much for my strategy."

She laughed. "Thanks."

"All right, we gotta get back up. Next race about to end." Even Waluigi looked somewhat more cheerful than in his usual state. "Bowser, you might wanna take her home." He jerked a thumb towards Toadette, nodding off against the black truck's bumper.

"Heh. Yeah, probably been a long day for her. Can you take care of my Kart?"

"No problem. Catch ya later."

Bowser bid farewell to the others and gently nudged Toadette awake. "C'mon. Let's get you home."

She fell asleep halfway through Broque District. Bowser chuckled to himself, still bewildered by the turn of events earlier. Ten minutes later they reached the wide, dimly lit roads of Executive.

"Toadette? We're almost home." He pulled into a wide driveway of gray boulder and mother-of-pearl masonry. The castle abruptly appeared on the horizon and sprouted over them in milliseconds, enormous and foreboding to the unwelcomed visitor. Bowser steered into an underground garage and cut the engine.

"Are all these _yours_?" Toadette suddenly jolted awake, skipping about the eight-car lot. "This is unreal!"

"Yeah. Most of them are from the King. He gets extras. Ambassadors'll send him cars as gifts since the Mushroom Kingdom is so automobile-obsessed. I only drive these first three on a regular basis."

She looked from his black Super-Duty she had ridden in several times that day, to the vivid red Escalade in the next space, to a sleek silver BMW, before tiptoeing further back. "This LFA is all dusty. Have you even driven it before?"

"No. Got it a little after my parents died. Not a Lexus fan." He kept it at that. The eerie dark gray car seemed to want to take a bite out of him. Its neon yellow calipers, reminiscent of venomous snake markings, did little to help.

Her jaw dropped at a red and black performance vehicle far to the back, across from the Lexus. "What kind of car _is_ this? I can't even recognize the make!"

Bowser ran his tongue over his lower lip. "That's a Bugatti Veyron."

"It's covered in dust, too! How come you don't drive it? Can I have it? If you don't want it…?"

He laughed at that. "It gets roughly five miles to the gallon and makes me look like I'm heavily overcompensating for something else. To answer both your questions."

"Ha. And this one?" She stopped at a classy burgundy model with a dark green cloth hood.

"That's a vintage Rolls-Royce Phantom. This one's a convertible. For… special occasions. More special than that white Hummer at least." He took it out twice a year for the All-Cup gala. Speaking of which, that was rapidly approaching…

"And a Ferarri."

"That was another present. He likes his cars silver or white, so this one went to me."

"He gave you… a Ferrari… because it was _red_?"

"Yes."

"Couldn't he just have given it new paint?"

"Nope. Just passed it off, maybe hoping the giver would get a clue."

Toadette blanched. If that gave her any idea of the man, then swell.

"So you never drive the Lexus or Veyron, you only pull the Hummer and Phantom out once in a while, and you drive the truck and the Escalade a lot. How often do you take the Ferarri out?"

"Once every few weeks. Good showy date car. I can tell which women not to date by if they aren't crazy car types."

Toadette laughed. "And the BMW?"

"That's my city car. When I'm keeping it low-profile. No one ever expects me to be driving that. Good for when I just want to get food or something here in Exec District." He unloaded her bags from the truck. "Let's head upstairs."

They passed through a three-story entry foyer over which hung a massive stone and mother-of-pearl chandelier, a chilly salon with exotic crimson rugs gone ragged, a stuffy parlor crammed with dark red armchairs, a game room decorated with intimidating tapestries, and a wide multi-level stone hallway before reaching the castle quarters. Toadette spent so much time taking in the surroundings she nearly lost track of Bowser three times.

"This is _huge_! You live here all by yourself?"

"Yeah. I don't use a whole lot of these rooms, though. Here, I think you'll like this one." He jiggled the handle until the thick wooden door swung open. "It's got its own bathroom and closet…girls like big closets, right? And that small door there goes to the room next to it if you want... I dunno...a study or something..."

Toadette twirled inside, admiring the high ceiling and tall windows overlooking the moat. "Bowser, this is amazing! It's all for me?"

He dumped the shopping bags onto the stark bed. "Yeah. I got my own suite so don't worry about cramping me. Hell, you can take the rest of the castle for all I care. I'd be surprised if any of the lights still work in half the place. Lot of it was just entertaining space back when the old king lived here."

"This belonged to your uncle?"

"Yeah, but before him, before the Toadstool family, was some ancestor of mine who had the City as the capital instead of Mushroom Bridge. Then Peach and her family became governors and they picked the palace in the countryside near Luigi Stadium. _Then_ my uncle became Regent and they expected him to move it back here, but he picked the Capital building inside Mushroom Bridge. Has a bunch of basements and offices and stuff." Just going over the basic facts was dizzying. Toadette watched him talk with wide eyes.

"Sounds like a fair bit of chaos for just a few generations."

"Lord. If you had any idea…" _Any..._

They unpacked the bags. Toadette placed all of her new clothing in the aromatic cedar closet while Bowser pulled her bedding over the ancient mattress, not used to the motions. He never made his own bed. Toadette on the other hand probably knew nurses' corners and things. Huh.

"If you think you got a handle on it, I'm going to head upstairs and change outta all this," he told her, tugging at one spiked leather strap. "Going to check in with Wario on the betting." He secretly liked leaving races early, just in case the feds showed up near the end. Safe.

"Thanks! I'm exhausted now that I think about it."

He left her to her own devices and exited into the wide hallway. Open-aired, it looked out onto the lava moat and therefore always stayed warm and red-tinged even in the dead of winter. It never snowed anywhere near Bowser's property, long as he could remember.

Suddenly dead tired, he pushed open an enormous pair of intricately-carved mother-of-pearl and cobalt doors and entered his chambers. Walked past the massive ebony dresser and mirrors, slid the balcony door shut, climbed a set of spiral steps to his bedroom. His head felt cloudy.

He collapsed onto a futon after pulling off his accessories and shoes, then removed his shirt. How awfully pretty he was in the high mirror there. Shapely muscles sculpted after years of training with the enormous spiked shells and working on cars before his first regionals break. Vivid copper hair that nearly produced its own light. Matching irises, interwoven shades of red and gold. It was nearly too much for one person. Nearly. He lit up.

His thoughts came out in short bursts. That prick Dry Bones. Given him the greatest Thrower ever. Inane. She looked like a doll, had to weigh under ninety pounds, had the greatest Item in the universe if only at the back of the race. How many weeks? Before the All-Cup? Can't remember.

_All-Cup. Gala._ He'd need a new suit, the rate he was growing. Something dark. Old habits die hard.

_All-Cup._

The room became cold. There was an open window a few meters away. Was snow flying through it? Invisible snow? So cold.

_All-Cup._

_Luigi Stadium._

_Explosion._

…_Rosalina._

He threw the cigarette out the open window and turned over in his futon, squeezing his eyes shut. No more. _Keep it out._

It snuck in, one way or another, through the holes and chinks in his stronghold, a door ajar, a cracked window pane.

_Dad? …Can you see Toadette from there?_

_From there?_

Sleep came, not easily.

_Rosalina._

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Check Katnoelle on livejournal for some…visualizations. Hehe.


	7. Petey Piranha

I keep forgetting to put disclaimers on the chapter heads. But is that required or not? Some people use them, some don't.

In any case, all characters in this story are property of Nintendo. Events in the narrative are entirely fictional and any corresponding real-life events are purely coincidental and unrelated. Or so I should hope.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Seven

Bowser's cell rang. It had been ringing for a while now.

_Go away_.

He tugged the thick blankets tighter over his head. Not having to answer the phone was totally worth suffocation.

Again and again it rang. The beeping, however faint, was liable to drive him insane even through the many blankets over his head. Nothing seemed to blot out the irritating sound.

_Fine,_ he grumbled, reaching for it. Too early for this.

He checked the number. Dry Bones'. _Wonderful_.

"Why hello there! It's me again!"

_Really._ "Uh, yeah—"

"So, did your Thrower arrive on time and all? How's it functioning? Any comments, complaints? You just say the word and we can fix you up in no time!"

Was it just Bowser's imagination or did Dry Bones really make that last comment? "Oh, Toadette… she rocks. Honest. Best thing that ever happened to me. I think she's asleep right now, though…" It was seven in the goddamn morning. _Why call at this hour?_

"That's wonderful to hear! I was starting to worry, when you had not called…"

Bowser froze. _That's right. _Dry Bones had asked him to call when Toadette had arrived, and he'd forgotten. That made him grin. He'd caused the corpse guy to sweat for once.

"Oh, yeah, sorry 'bout that. But it's fine, she came in perfect condition." After talking to Dry Bones for so long, even he was making her sound like a mail-order commodity. Urgh. "How many people you still got in that lab of yours?"

"Oh, back at the lab—don't you worry! Now, as for the All-Cup—I assume you're training for it, of course—but just say the word and we can fund your travels _completely_—not to mention advertisements, promotions, media interviews—anything your heart desires!"

_Spare me. _"Actually, sir, I've made it a habit to fund my own trips. I'm funding for my whole team. With all due respect, you're not the only guy with money around here." The words coming out of his mouth tasted like chalk.

"Oh, nonsense, Bowser! You must understand how close your uncle and I are! Anything I could possibly do for you is but another way for me to serve my country! Why, we could give you different Throwers for every day of the year! You must understand that your word is my command."

_What on earth…_

"Haha. I dunno how reliable three hundred and sixty five different Throwers would be in terms of tournament performance," he replied. _What a fucking creep_.

"Ah, but of course! Well… hm…" There was a moment of silence for once. "If you _do_ need anything—"

"I'll be sure to call, sir. It's ingrained."

Bowser heard a laugh on the other line. "Well, then… I'll be seeing you, my friend," he said before hanging up.

Bowser pitched the phone across the room. It crashed against the stone mantel and fell to the floor in two neat pieces._ My friend_.

What bull. Kid probably knew about the entire takeover. Tight with the King like that, it was just implied. Prick had no right to call himself a 'friend.'

Another thought struck him. "_You must understand how close your uncle and I are!_"

So much power at his disposal—what if _he_ had rigged—

_No_. Don't think about it.

_What if he—_

He imagined Kamek standing before him, less than one month after that fateful race. Honest, brutally honest, brutally straightforward, unbending Kamek. Unbending, and would bend over backwards to keep Bowser out of trouble.

_People will want you. Your power, your money, your security, your connections to these other powerful figures all around you. You won't need them. No good will come of them. Pick your friends well, boy._

He wanted Kamek now. He had no intention of dealing with these people ever, let alone this early in the morning. He wanted Kamek to ground him for a decade. He'd scrub floors and do laundry and wash cars forever if it meant removing pricks like Dry Bones and Giga-Bowser from his life.

_Leave me alone_.

He pulled the blanket back over himself and forced himself to sleep.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"A road trip? That sounds awesome!" Daisy grinned and tossed her magazine aside. "I feel like this place is strangling me. It'd be good to get out."

"Yeah," Baby called from the kitchen over the sound of a hissing fry pan. "Fresh air. Catch me a squirrel."

"Squirrel? I'm not eating any more of your food then." Bowser stretched out on the couch. Toadette sat on the floor next to him, leaning against the arm rest. He picked up a strand of her hair and started twirling it around his fingers.

She giggled. "Can I… help you…?"

"Yeah. Never cut your hair."

"Oh. That's easy." She returned to reading one of Daisy's magazines, one of a several dozen sitting in a stack next to her higher than her shoulder._Vogue, Cosmo, Seventeen, Elle, Hint, G&L Bible, _and _Nylon_ looked up at him in bright colors and raunchy headlines.

Baby exited f the kitchen carrying a plate of hot salted pecans. Bowser reached over, grabbed a handful from the platter, and stuffed them in his mouth.

"Hey— how do you know I didn't put squirrel in these as well?" he asked, setting it down on the coffee table.

"Don' care," he replied, swallowing them all. Baby could bitch all he wanted; nothing could stand between Bowser and the kid's cooking. Tough.

"These are really good," Daisy exclaimed after chomping down a handful herself. She slapped the younger redhead on the back in approval.

Baby shook his head. Though the doorbell rang, no one stood up. Wally, Luigi, and Wario walked in, the latter scooping up a large amount of the pecans before crashing onto the sofa.

"You're welcome." Baby threw his apron at Wario.

Toad turned off the television. "So, how much d'we make last week?"

Wario's chest puffed out proudly. "Two-ninety, just about. All in the bank."

"The money from the betting?" Toadette asked.

"Yeah. Oh, wait—" Bowser sat up, fishing around in his back pocket.

"What's up?" Luigi asked.

"Toadette doesn't have any money. How come I didn't—uhn—think about it?" he asked, pulling his wallet out.

"I know I bought you at least one wallet. Do you have it?" Daisy asked, flipping through another magazine.

"Yeah… in my purse…"

Bowser handed her a standard walnut-sized sack of coins. "In case you need a taxi or something. Also, since we're going on a trip—oh, we gotta wait for Koopa and Paratroopa…"

"Let's meet 'em someplace else. It's getting crowded here," Daisy said. They feasted on the pecans.

"Then the underpass. We can throw rocks at cars or something."

"Sounds cool."

A week had passed since they had toasted Boo in the garage. Bowser and Toadette had practiced 180-degree power slides at the Baby Park course twice, and then progressed to obstacle-avoidance on the streets of Mushroom City. Toadette had proved herself wholly capable of dodging the vehicles; now, they were practicing various time-making maneuvers as well. Her training in the Dry Dry Desert labs certainly proved effective, if anything; she and Bowser had synchronized their driving styles in a matter of days, the same level it had taken him and Koopa years to reach.

Around four they headed out under the west loop 6. Definitely not the largest of highways; in fact, a decent-sized stretch of it was one-way traffic, reserved for racers. Of course, it was then up to the racers to dodge the oncoming Wiggler buses and shroom cars.

It was practically warm outdoors. Bowser and the others wove through traffic on foot, running about until they found the little stone pathway that he sometimes used as a shortcut during the races in Mushroom City.

Hidden away from the main thoroughfare, and enclosed by buildings on both sides, it served as a romantic stroll park of sorts. The building walls surrounding it muffled the noise of the traffic about them, an oddity in such a large city. Little wrought-iron fences separated the pathway from the gardens on either side. People driving on the streets three feet away would not see them.

"It's cozy," Toadette said, sitting on the fence. Wally called Koopa on his cell. Bowser sat down on the ground, leaning against the same fence Toadette had perched herself on. The railing cooled the back of his neck. The air around them still glistened with icy humidity, even though it had stopped snowing weeks ago.

"I can't reach him. Signal sucks. Bowser, try yours." Wally flipped his cell closed.

"Sorry. It broke."

"Your phone broke? How?" Daisy asked, glancing up.

"Threw it against the wall."

"Again? Was it your uncle?"

"Hah. I wish."

"So _that's_ what that sound was," Toadette murmured. Bowser blinked.

"Did I wake you up?"

"No," she replied quickly. Poor liar.

God…

"Toadette?" he asked, waiting until Daisy was out of earshot.

"Hn?"

"How many...how many people do you think are still back in the lab?"

She was silent for a moment before answering. "About a dozen. But that was just one lab."

"A dozen? How many labs do you think there were, in total?"

"Ten, I think."

Bowser closed his eyes. A hundred and twenty freaking science projects.

"Toadette?"

"Yes?"

"They ever hurt you?"

There was silence. Toadette slid down the fence so she was sitting next to Bowser.

"I dunno. Depends on—"

"Yes or no?" He gently looped another pink lock around his fingers.

"Nothing I wasn't wiling to take." Not an answer he liked.

"If you could have left sooner, would you?"

"Yes." That was fast.

"One of Dry Bones' associates said you'd volunteered to leave."

"That's right."

He wrapped the long pink strand around his forefinger, then unwound it, then wrapped it up again. "That was brave of you."

"Thank you." Her voice had become distant.

Daisy whooped, chatting with someone on her cell.

"Yeah! We're on the lower level!... yeah, I know…no they're _not_! Argh! Screw you—" She hung up.

"Something up?"

"Nothing. They'll be here in five. We still doing the Grodus again tonight?"

"Yep. Cream 'em." Toad leaned back and rested his head in Baby's lap, watching the dark clouds scuttle along overhead.

Wario stopped his irate pacing and eyed the sky as well. Very cloudy. But not rain, not for another day at least...

After a while Koopa and Paratroopa showed up on their Vespa. "Good afternoon, slackers!" he called.

"No need to quote that game," Wally murmured, bleary-eyed. They laughed and sat on the ground next to him.

Bowser lit a cigarette, careful not to damage Toadette's hair. "Road trip. When does term start for you two?"

"You've forgotten already? Ha ha." Daisy stood up and brushed off her jeans.

"August," Paratroopa kindly reminded him. "So not for another few months. Plenty of time for the tourney."

"What time, then?" Luigi asked. "All-Cup starts in a little over two weeks."

Bowser frowned. "Doesn't gotta be too long. I just got some errands to run. Tuesday morning. Couple days of Mushroom Bridge. It'd be nice to scope everything out before we return for the All-Cup opening. And you all can do whatever you want…doesn't have to be all work. That sound okay?"

"Sure, but who's payin'?" Wario asked quietly. Bowser laughed.

"I will. It was my idea. Get us a nice hotel."

"Nice. Can you afford a suite for two weeks?"

"You don't worry about anything. There's, what, ten of us? Perfect. Two suites. Tuesday through…Friday should be long enough…" He quickly exhaled smoke and waved it away.

"Sounds good. We all could do with a little sunlight." Luigi rested his head back on his hands.

"Yes! Finally!" Baby called, sitting next to Daisy, who promptly pulled him up and gave him a noogie. "Ah! That hurts!'

"But your hair's so _cute_! It's big and fluffy and giant—"

"Jeez, give him a break." Toad fearfully pulled Baby away from her.

"What tracks are close to Mushroom Bridge?" Wally asked.

"Luigi Raceway… the old Royal Raceway… Mushroom Bridge itself, if ya wanna cause a ruckus…" Toad drummed his finger on Baby's knee. "Not bad. Nothing intense, nothing to sneeze at."

Toadette shuddered, having nearly nodded off. Bowser chuckled. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Tired."

Huh. "It's only five."

"Exactly… that's what's weird…"

Bowser nodded. "You can take a nap. We're not going anywhere."

To his surprise, Toadette closed her eyes and leaned against his shoulder. _Out like a light,_ he thought. Her face in repose seemed troubled...severe. Should he really have bugged her about the labs? Maybe not the best choice of conversation topics. Bleh.

"She asleep?" Luigi asked, fiddling with his keys. Bowser nodded.

"Yeah. Doesn't know why, either. Drops pretty fast, though."

"You gonna wake her up for dinner?"

"Yeah. If she sleeps all afternoon she'll be up all night. I'll wake her up when we head out."

Luigi nodded. They continued to discuss trip plans— which hotel? Who would drive? Wasn't there a fireworks festival this coming thursday?

Bowser glanced down at Toadette again, struck again by how much she resembled an oversized doll. She was so tiny. Cold, too. No blood to speak of. He pushed a lock of hair out of her face… still angry-looking. Why? Could she read his mind?

What was Toadette dreaming about, if she really were asleep? He did not doubt that she had gone through a lot. Bowser closed his eyes and prayed she didn't regret leaving the labs. Not after everything he had felt.

But she was no longer safe, in the labs beneath the desert, out in the middle of nowhere… this was the real world, now, and he was all she had. He gingerly put an arm around her, missing Kamek again.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"Toadette… wake up… c'mon…"

Toadette blearily opened her eyes to find Bowser holding her. "Hn?" She yawned.

"We're gonna eat downtown. Let's go. It's eight."

Toadette nodded and they got up. Daisy wrapped her arm around Luigi's waist. Toad and Baby hopped into Wally and Wario's van.

"Anybody need a ride?" Wario asked. Bowser shook his head, and with Toadette headed for the Ford. He had chained it to the truck bed in the event someone spotted it. Now he checked everything carefully; no missing parts, no scratches to speak of... good. Bowser started the engine.

"Can I ask about Peach?" Toadette asked as she strapped her seatbelt on.

Bowser blinked, taken aback by the abruptness of the inquiry. "Well, yeah. What—"

"Daisy said you dated her in high school."

"Yeah."

"But when all that stuff happened with your uncle becoming King, she left her family."

"Yes. To sum it up."

"Did something happen?"

"Yes." He took Main north.

"You were hurt."

Bowser closed his eyes as the stoplight turned red. "It could have been worse."

"You still see her every now and then…?"

He opened his eyes. Still red. "Yes."

"Where does she stay now?"

Interesting. "Not a whole lot of people know this. She's staying outside the Garden district in one of her aunts' old neo-victorian villas. Giant wedding cake of a building. Runs a bakery on the ground floor. Lives there with these two toddlers. Luigi's brother visits a lot...I think he helps out at the bakery."

That had to sound scandalous to her. "Are they hers?"

"Nope. That's where it gets interesting."

"Do you know why she left? Wasn't she next in line for the throne, if she was their daughter?"

"They teach you guys current events in your labs out there?"

Toadette blinked. "They did give us news reports and any headlines. That's how I know she's in the royal family."

Bowser nodded. "She has an older sister who was technically first in line for the throne, but she picked a different vocation. You can tell they were pretty worried about Peach if they asked her to step down. Luckily my uncle got promoted so it became a moot point." Luckily his ass.

"Does she communicate with them at all?"

He shook his head. "Not sure. I know the rest of the family sends her cash, not that she needs it. Depends if she wants to go back to school or not. I mean, she finished her GED, but she was always talking about studying abroad..." He forced himself to relax, suddenly realizing he had been grinding his teeth.

Toadette eyed him closely. "You don't want to talk about it. I'll stop."

He exhaled deeply. "Thanks."

The light turned green. They proceeded.

Toadette gazed out the window, something now commonplace. Spacey by nature, he guessed. But then again, the city might look pleasant if you'd never lived anywhere else…

Wario's van accelerated just up ahead… Daisy's Jeep, with the yellow trailer bed attached, sped up right behind them…

"There's the Tower," she said, looking straight up. "I saw it on a bunch of postcards before I came here."

Bowser nodded. "Yeah. One of the more unique buildings here." He needed a cigarette. Bad. "Christ… the closed off the lane here too? Third time this month…"

"What's wrong?"

"Gotta take the long way… blast… here, I think I got an extra phone in the glove compartment. Pull it out."

She did so, and Bowser gave her Wario's number. "Ask him what the shortest route to Grodus is."

"…Wally? Yeah, it's Toadette… yeah, that's what he said… okay. I'll tell him. Yeah, see you…" She closed the phone. "He says just to follow him."

"That's comforting," Bowser replied. "Is he gonna tell Louie?"

"Yes, he said that, too. Is Boo coming again tonight?"

"Yeah, if he has any guts left. I know that guy. Once he's angry, he'll do anything he can to get revenge or whatever. Kinda pathetic."

"Do you believe in revenge?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Never mind." She chewed her tongue. "What did your parents do? Can I ask that?"

Bowser gritted his teeth. "They raced."

"Okay." She pulled her knees to her chest. Bowser continued to follow Wario around the blocked road. Twice he went through alleys, once driving over a median. Lord.

"Here we are. You hungry?"

"Yes, actually." They locked the car up and followed the others into the café. A long bar took up one corner; Bowser made it a point to never enter a restaurant that prohibited smoking. Masochism did not have a place in his psyche.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"See? Almost ten seconds faster than last week! You learn quickly."

Toadette laughed. Bowser fell back into domination-mode. At this point, they wouldn't even need Items to win. They had grown exponentially in both skill and teamwork since the night she had arrived.

Boo and Petey showed up, parking their white van on the first level of the garage. Bowser grinned and gave the conditions another check. Same road, no puddles or rain to speak of. The sky overhead was quite dark; no stars showed through. In contrast, the glare of the streetlights seemed to blind unsuspecting stargazers. Bowser relaxed and pulled out a cigarette. Sounds of traffic could be heard far off, as if from miles away, nearly…

"_Bowsa_… you done some practicin', bro?" Bowser whipped around to find the guy standing right behind him.

"Sure. You watered Petey lately? Last thing you need is to have your Thrower wilt on you last lap—"

"Cut the crap. You're about to get repaid for your little stunt last week."

"Cute. What is it this time? Rig the Item boxes again? Pay off the timekeeper?"

"Quit your bitchin', Bowsah. You better not come cryin' to me when this is done." He and Petey returned to unloading the Pipes from his van.

"Wonder what that was about," Bowser murmured.

"What do you think?" Toadette asked.

"He's got something planned. Something weird if he's being so ostentatious about it."

Toadette looked away. Not comforting.

And so they raced. This was much better, now that they were used to the new field, and had practiced. On the fourth floor, however, something hard hit them.

"The hell?" Bowser pulled the Kart into a mini-Turbo to pick up their speed, but Boo and Petey had already moved way ahead. They sped through an Item box.

"Green shell. We gotta fall back if you want anything special, remember?" She tossed it.

"I know, I know—no, wait, switch, now!" He took Thrower position as Toadette drove them into the spiral ramp. Another Item box—"Awesome, same as last time!" Bowser's glorious spiked shell glinted evilly in the glare of the streetlights. He waited a bit before throwing it, though—Lord, Toadette was getting good—she pulled another mini-turbo and they returned to top speed.

"We're almost at 'em," she called back to him. "We get a straightaway for a bit—"

"Gotcha!" He hurled it forward. The gigantic killing machine grew in mass as it crossed the garage before clobbering the solitary Kart ahead of them.

"Yes!"

"Watch for it—it's gonna ricochet—" They passed Boo's Kart, his expletives so great in number they were nearly tangible.

"Suck it!" he called back to them. Second spiral.

They reached the third floor and he grabbed an Item box. Banana. Hmph.

"Ahh!"

"What's up?" he bellowed at Toadette, before she completely swerved to the right, nearly causing him to fall off.

It was his shell. That is, it looked like his shell. But it was not _his._

"THE HELL, YOU BASTARD?" he snarled as Boo caught up to them. "THAT'S MY ITEM! _MINE_!" The albino flipped him off and they sped ahead.

"What was that? Baby's not in this race! Boo doesn't have a shell like yours, does he?"

Bowser looked down at Toadette; in the rearview mirrors he could see her face, panicked and strained. He imagined that was what he looked like as well; Boo had stolen his Item. But _how?_

"Don't—just, just don't worry… keep driving!" he called. Toadette nodded and they picked up the pace. Final spiral. Yoshi was coming in fast; Bowser tossed the banana behind him and they spun out. With all due respect to the guy, Bowser simply had more important opponents to worry about.

"Parking lot! You want me to keep driving?" she asked.

"Yeah! You're doing great… c'mon!" They cruised through another Item box. Red shell. Fine with him. He hurled it in Boo's general direction and let the heat-seeking devices within the Item take care of the—

"_Holy–_WHAT'S GOING ON WITH YOU?"

An enormous banana had appeared behind Boo's Kart, completely blocking his red shell. But that wasn't Boo's Item, again. _He's using DK's Item…how?_

"He's got the ape's stuff, too? The hell's going on with that bastard?" Bowser growled and they continued through another Item box. They were catching up, slowly but surely… two more laps…

"Spiny shell, coming in!" Toadette called. Bowser inhaled sharply.

"We gotta switch!"

"Okay!" Time for another lesson, Bowser's subconscious called to her. They were right behind Boo… no good. He braked.

"What are you doing?" Toadette shrieked. Bowser waited until the shell struck the guy before hitting the gas again. Poor Yoshi and Birdo—they'd driven right up to Boo and had been caught in the blast radius. Heh.

"You knew it was gonna happen!" he called to Toadette. "No point in staying _anywhere_ near him, do you understand? We stay safe, no matter what, then pick up speed later!" They zoomed past Boo's and Yoshi's Karts. The Throwers in particular looked miserable, barely hoding onto the rear bumpers while the drivers strained to increase their speeds. "You wanna look like them?"

"But what if it didn't hurt Yoshi? He'dve passed us up, and he'd be ahead—"

" But then all six of us would've been blown up! I'd rather lose to him than Boo!"

"Okay… ugh…"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" They kept driving. Boo was gaining on them… Bowser's muscles clenched just from thinking about that guy. He had no right to anyone's Items. None. How… how could he even…?

"Focus, Bow!" Toadette called. Bowser blinked, then swerved out of the path of a stray Green Shell just in time. _Phew_.

"Got 'em!" he roared as they crossed the finish line. Toadette whooped behind him.

"He lost, even with cheating!" she called as they drove back into the garage. Bowser ripped the keys out of the ignition and hopped off. The man in question pulled up next to them.

"What did you do?" Toadette asked, sliding off the Throwers' pedestal. Boo eyed her warily. Bowser realized she had not directed her question at him but instead at Petey, who backed off, shaking his green head.

"Buzz off, girlie."

Bowser lit up in a fury, tossing the empty carton aside. "Right. What the hell you doing with other peoples' Items?"

"Oh, yes, that… don't worry, Bow. _Completely _legal. In fact…" He patted Toadette's head, causing her to jerk away sharply. Bowser pulled her to his side.

"You think you're the only one with a Thrower like that, bud? Guess again." He and Petey returned to their van and drove off.

Bowser wrapped an arm around Toadette. Boo had touched her. That prick was so going to—

"Hey," a voice said. Not the usual one. Bowser turned around.

Yoshi and Birdo had pulled up, their green Kart resting in the bed of her enormous vintage magenta pickup. He slipped out and slammed the door behind him. Birdo followed suit, climbed over the bed, and hopped onto the ground next to her boyfriend.

"Yeah?" Bowser replied, pulling on the cigarette.

Yoshi closed his eyes and spoke again. "You… wouldn't… I dunno…"

"What's up with Boo?" Birdo asked irately. "We hadn't seen him all week, not since you pounded him here last time. He showed up tonight and we have no idea what we were going against—not only did he manage to produce our Items, he even used them against _us_— his own team. Spill."

Bowser exhaled slowly, jets of silver smoke rising to the charcoal sky. "No idea. He had my Items too, and DK's…"

"And he used your student friend's triple shells. Your Italian guy made sure there were less Item boxes this time," Birdo continued slowly, "yet every time Boo hit one he came up with a special-class Item. What gives?"

"Wait," Toadette breathed. "Bowser, you mentioned Dry Bones to them. Last week, when he was ranting about my Item."

Her words cut into their exchange with all the efficiency of a flaming katana. Yoshi's brow furrowed.

"Dry Bones. I've heard of him. He's running those weird racer-pumping labs out in the desert, right?"

Toadette nodded, albeit with some restraint. "Yes…that's where I've been living for the past few years."

Birdo's eyes widened. "You too? Then if Bowser brought him up when Boo flipped over your Mushroom, that's definitely the guy he went to." Yoshi shot her a hard look, one Bowser could not read.

"How many racers does this Dry Bones guy regularly connect with?" he murmured, disturbed. "He acts like such a big shot whenever I see him, but if any racer in the city can just waltz up and ask for Items like that—"

Yoshi cleared his throat. "I think you're forgetting Boo's standing here in the city. He and Petey technically race on the same level as the four of us. Even if Dry Bones only assisted racers according to skill level, that alone would be reason enough."

"He probably spent tonight taking it out on us for winning ours last week," Birdo muttered. "Do us a favor and shut up about that FBR guy around him. You of all people should know better than to flaunt anything fancy in front of Boo and expect him to swallow it without retribution."

"That…" His throat closed up. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and crossed his arms. What could he say? This was, theoretically, his fault.

"Hey, look on the bright side," Yoshi exclaimed. "Gives us a reason to put in more practice time for the All-Cup."

Birdo nodded her head from side to side, slowly conceding. "He has a point. We technically only lost this match because of your friend's blue shell last-second. You actually beat him—need to respect you for that—so maybe we're just overreacting. At least in terms of how this will affect the All-Cup."

"That doesn't make it less of a pain in the ass," Bowser admitted. "Trust Boo to pull a stunt like this. Dunno why you stick with him."

"We have our reason," Yoshi replied, briefly sticking out his tongue. "Maybe you'll figure it out someday."

"Heh. Well I'll definitely see what I can do about his sudden new crop of Items. That's never not going to piss me off." Bowser exhaled another jet of smoke. "And it's one thing to knock out a teammate right ahead of you mid-race, but you should probably tell him to lay off the spite attacks. Unprofessional. Then again maybe I just run my gang differently."

"Perhaps," Birdo replied, raising one pink eyebrow at her boyfriend. Luigi and Daisy walked up as the next set of racers took off.

"See you at Luigi Stadium," Yoshi said. "Don't get blown up." He and Birdo returned to their truck and drove out of the garage.

Daisy cocked her head, having stood within earshot of that last statement. "_Did he just refer to_—?"

"Yeah," Bowser replied, somewhat jolted by Yoshi's last warning. Sure, it had to be common knowledge by now, but still…

"You two weren't fighting with Birdo and Yoshi, were you?" Daisy raised one eyebrow. "Thought you guys were on decent terms."

"No, we were just discussing Boo's performance in that race," he replied. "That last comment… I dunno. Him being weird." Weird, and or terrifying. God damn.

"Boo's performance?" Daisy cocked one eyebrow.

"You weren't in that race. Did you see it?"

"See what?"

"Boo's Items."

There was silence.

"You know something about that? He used your shell twice, Birdo's egg, DK's banana, Para's triple green shells…"

"He has all our Items. And I think I know why." He kept a hold on Toadette. Every second that passed, he felt stupider and stupider. He knew where this was going.

"You… you do?"

"Yeah. There couldn't be another way. Not that I know of." He inhaled deeply. _Channel your feelings. There's work to be done. Let's get some energy off all this._ "I gotta call up that prick Dry Bones. He obviously doesn't get which kind of clientele deserves that stuff."

Daisy inhaled sharply. "_Him_? No way. How could they even—"

"I brilliantly dropped his name last week after we creamed Boo here. The guy may be a dick but picks up on things quickly when it comes to racing. Five hundred coins on who gave him those Items."

Daisy started. "That son of a—but—" She glanced up at him, clearly alarmed. "Dry Bones really gave him… those abilities? In just a week? Bow, do you know what that means?"

Bowser nodded in pained affirmative, feeling the blood leaving his face. "That guy… he's got all our Items, too… if he could so easily give them away…"

Daisy grimaced. "God knows who else he'd pass them off to. No good. Hey, you'd—you had better get some sleep… really…"

Luigi nodded. "She's right. Baby and Toad just left. We can stay with Wally 'til this is all over… not as many people as last week for sure."

Bowser closed his eyes. "Thanks." Daisy and Luigi grinned and walked off.

They returned to the truck, but Bowser rounded on Toadette before unlocking the doors.

"Alright, spill. What previous connection did Boo have to Dry Bones?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "S— sorry?"

Bowser crossed his arms. "When you explained you had lived at the labs, Birdo was surprised. But she asked, 'You too?,' not 'You were?' or anything. Yoshi knew something too. Kept giving her looks after you brought up Dry Bones. Said something about how even skill alone would draw that guy's attention—but that implied Boo had some bigger connection to him than just clout." He shook his head. "I've been racing against Boo almost my entire life, so there's no way he could have been in the desert under that same program as you. So how do _they_ know each other?"

She nodded slowly. "No…not Boo… I've honestly never met him in my life before last week…but—"

And suddenly it clicked for him. Toadette _never_ talked to or even looked at Boo. She would always address—

"_Petey_?" He needed to sit down.

Toadette nodded again, her face coloring. Bowser raised an eyebrow.

"What else?"

"N-nothing—"

"Don't gimme that. Petey only showed up about two years ago. He's gotta be five times your size but you didn't even blink before that first race against Boo. Hell, you shoved him into a wall mid-race—I probably couldn't do that if I tried. Tell me about him."

Toadette exhaled sharply. "He was the first racer the labs took on," she replied. "And the most promising. I was hoping to get out at the same time he did, or before. They only let their most powerful racers leave."

Bowser blinked. _So that's why you were in such a hurry to get out_… "He was your rival."

She nodded quickly. "Y-yeah. I spent my entire time there just trying to catch up to him, though he joined a year ahead of me. Plus he was more experienced when he joined than I was. I joined because I wasn't a naturally-talented racer, and wanted to be. They granted that wish. Petey…he was a natural racer, and wanted to be better. They made him amazing." Her eyes clouded, wistful.

He laughed at that. "You've beat him twice in eight days. That can't hurt."

Toadette grinned. "Ha. Those two extra years in the labs might have helped. Although…" She looked up at him. "That was definitely your skill that won us that race today."

Bowser unlocked the truck, content for now. "Well, we'll just have to keep training you. Find some new tricks for you. Your Item pretty much prevents you from losing."

She grinned, hopping into the driver seat. "They told us that you were planning to win the All-Cup. If I didn't think I could help win, I probably wouldn't have volunteered."

"Toadette, you are something."

"Haha." Toadette looked out the window, resting her hands in her lap.

Hmm. Something else hung in the air. Bowser could not detect what, but sighed in acceptance. It would come up later. Everything always did.

The castle loomed before them as they pulled up, its stone walls red in the glow of the inner lava moat. The outer moat, on the other hand…

"How come the water in the outside moat's purple?" Toadette asked.

Bowser had no idea. "Because of all the corpses rotting in it. That's where I throw all my partners that get me under fourth place in the All-Cup."

"_What_?"

Bowser laughed. "Joking. I have no clue. Like I would ever wanna find out." They headed upstairs, Toadette's giggles bouncing off the stone walls.

"'Night," she called softly.

"Take care." He retired to his room.

Poor Toadette. Now she was gonna go all psycho on him someday.

Though it'd probably be worth it in the long run. Heh.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o


	8. Kamek and Kamella

Hi everyone. Sorry for the delay. Stuff happens in college.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Eight

Brilliant white sunlight flooded the otherwise dark suite bedroom, streaming through the red and blue curtains in a magnificent rush of gold. Bowser grinned, bemused, and slid off of the bed, careful not to step on Luigi sprawled over his futon, and slid the screen door open to step outside.

The air smelled magnificent. Natural air, not oxygen mixed with hundreds of thousands of pollutants. He took great shuddering breaths of it, as if he could swallow this sweet air and let it sit there within him. Why not? Some time passed and he collapsed into an iron-wrought patio chair and gazed at the sky.

Mushroom Bridge lay before him, a bustling town of government office and celebrity inhabitants and whose chief economies lay in tourism, racing, and communications. The capital palace of the Mushroom Kingdom was just visible on the other side of the river in the Government District.

"River" here was a loose term—it was a quarter-mile wide at its thinnest, and branches of it completely surrounded the downtown area, having long ago transformed it into a landlocked island. The town lay upon its own private sea.

He wondered if Rosalina was there, stressed but productive in one of those opal-roofed offices. She never stayed on the planet long, but he knew she preferred this place of sunlight to Mushroom City, an ashen clot on the face of the otherwise green countryside.

"Hi," he heard a voice call. Bowser bolted up and glanced to his right, over to the other balcony. Toadette sat perched on the rail, gazing over the pearly rooftops, just like him.

"Morning," he called back, walking to the edge of the balcony, closer to Toadette. She struck him as healthy-looking in the sunlight; her skin, no longer pale and sallow as it had appeared in the smog of the city, practically glowed. Her pink hair seemed brighter, too.

"Daisy couldn't sleep, so she went to the spa down the street. The really beachy-looking one that you thought was a dollhouse." Toadette gathered her hair behind her head, attempting to tie it back.

"Do you normally get up this early?" Bowser asked, feeling guilty.

Toadette shook her head. "Nope. But I've been up for a while. I wanted to watch the sun rise. Daisy actually called about ten minutes ago… she said she'd get breakfast."

Bowser leaned on the railing. "Lord. I'd better do a quality control—"

"You don't like donuts?"

Bowser grinned. "Ha, never mind. Donuts are okay. She's pretty much learned to keep it to three dozen…knows what kinds everyone likes."

Bells began to ring, their warm clean tones sounding through the crisp air. Toadette quickly glanced to her right, then ran to the railing on the other side of the balcony, looking out over the town. She pointed at something.

"There's a church over there. See the blue bell towers?"

Bowser squinted and saw she was right. "Oh, yeah. Pretty." Eleven in the morning.

The door slid open behind him, and Wally traipsed over to the balcony. He looked in the direction of the sea—_river,_ for Chrissake,_ river_—and, for the first time in an eon, smiled. Bowser followed suit, and sensed Toadette doing the same. The peace was contagious.

"Get some rest?" he asked, lighting a cigarette.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I can sleep on the futon tomorrow. Louie can have my bed."

Bowser nodded. The sleeping arrangements consisted of the girls, Baby, and Toad taking one suite, and the rest of the guys sleeping in the one next door. Each suite had its own kitchen, bathroom, and sitting area. And balcony. Heh. In time he ground the dead cigarette into the ceramic ashtray.

He ducked back inside and opened the door that connected the two suites. Wario had awakened, and at the moment stood near the closet, pulling his denim vest on. Louie had not yet risen, still asleep on the futon near the couch.

"Oi. They serve breakfast here?" Wario pulled his favorite vintage aviators onto his forehead and considered his reflection in the mirror.

"Daisy's bringing donuts, says Toadette. There are a couple of restaurants downstairs… a bar…nothing that looks cheap…"

"Do… donuts?" The thick blankets muffled Koopa's voice slightly. Bowser nodded to Wario, counted to three, and they both dove onto the bed at the same time.

"ARRGHH! What the?—argh, it _smells_! Geez, Wario, no one in their right mind puts on that much Axe past middle school—"

"Didn't realize you were more of an Old Spice man," he retorted with a sardonic grin.

"Get off! Grrrr." Bowser snuggled with Koopa until he began squirming, to no avail; the redhead easily weighed almost twice as much as him to begin with.

Then the doorway between suites burst open.

"DONUTS!" Daisy hollered, carrying six pink boxes. Koopa finally wiggled out of Bowser's stronghold and crawled toward his suitcase.

"You slept in your jeans? _Louie_…"

"'Ay, I got to bed late, okay? Had to register the karts into the garage here, unpack, check the locations of the ice machines…" He yawned.

Paratroopa strode in. "Morning, people! Eat up—we're shopping for our All-Cup outfits today!"

Bowser blinked, having bit into a cinnamon roll. "Wha…?"

"You know! Partners gotta have coordinating outfits, and teams all gotta wear the same badge or something. That's what Wally said."

"Yeah, yeah…" Wario grinned. "Well, then… what's our team gonna… you know?"

"We could all wear spikes," Bowser said, his face lighting up. Koopa stuck his tongue out.

"Naw. That's your trademark, not ours."

"Maybe we could all put the same decals on our Karts."

"Sure," Toadette replied after swallowing something covered in seafoam-colored icing. "Putting _anything_ on the Bloom Coach would look just as okay on the Koopa King."

"Aw, c'mon! You know you want to!" Daisy giggled and chomped on a pink donut dotted with sprinkles.

"We could all get face tattoos," Bowser mused.

Baby choked. "Um, _no_. I like the accessory thing better."

"Okay, then. Eat now, shop later." Bowser sipped the steaming dark liquid. Mmm. Good hotel coffee. Oxymoron in Mushroom City, but in Mushroom Bridge…

Toadette poured herself a mug and sat next to him on the bed. Ha. They matched. Hahaha.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"Look! Angelic Pretty opened an outlet here!" Daisy yanked Toadette through the open double French doors into a small corner shop decorated in sparkling pink and white frills.

Bowser shied away from the fluffiness. "I'll be next door," he called before ducking into a quiet internet café in the adjacent building.

With a mug of cheap dark roast in hand, he slid into a booth and logged into the sleek Fawfuljitsu on the table.

There was someone he needed to find.

He checked out the Mushroom Bridge yellow pages and scrolled through thousands of similar names and families. Now, what…he held down the control key and hit F.

_Kamek_…

There! One hundred thirty-four residents under that surname. He narrowed down the list by age and move-in date by year. Over forty, winter of two years ago… two. Two Kameks. One in his mid-sixties listed as a custodian at Mushroom Bridge Community College. Bowser shook his head and checked the next.

_Kamek, Grayson Koopa. 58. Employed, Federal Government. Occupation, Senior State Magician._

There was more. Bowser read on, suddenly sweating. Surely the coffee wasn't that hot. He gently pushed the smoking ceramic mug a few inches further away.

_Married, 14 months. Licensed Mushroom Bridge City Hall. _

Married? Then—

_Kamek, Beryl Pauline. Neé Kamella. _

Bowser felt the blood drain from his face. _Kamella_. Right after he'd moved…then they'd known each other before…

_Focus._

He returned his attention to the listing, eventually spotted an address, and ran it through a map retrieval website.

According to the net, Kamek lived on the north end of town beyond the Starman Lake's west bend. Fifteen-minute car trip.

Bowser logged out of the laptop and snapped it shut before draining his coffee. He savored the burn.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"Wake up! …Bowser? Hey…"

Sighing, Bowser opened one eye, still sprawled on the suite sofa. Luigi had shaken him awake. He looked outside—nighttime. For real, nighttime. Here it mattered.

"We're going down to the fireworks festival, you wanna come?"

He yawned, squeezing his eyes shut. "Uh, in a bit. Lemme shower and I'll drive down in whatever car you don't take."

"Fine. We're taking the Jeep. See ya in a bit."

Luigi trooped out with Daisy, Paratroopa, Koopa, the boys and Toadette, all clad in brocade festival clothing, the girls' hair pinned up with jewels and silk flowers.

"You two are staying here?" he called to Wally and Wario who sat hunched over a tablet on the small dining table.

"Yeah. Gotta plan when the next races in town will be, since the All-Cup is taking us out for a few weeks."

"All right."

He quickly showered and dried his hair. Someone had placed a large paper package on top of his suitcase. Toadette…?

It contained a light festival haori, black silk embossed with shining brocade golden and white flames. He carefully shrugged it on, touched.

"Wally?" he called before heading out.

"Yeah?"

"If the others make it back before I do, can you tell them I'm visiting someone in town?" He had no idea how the rest of this would play out.

"Yeah…? You not going to the festival?"

"I might make it. What time is it now?"

"Seven-forty. Festival ends around midnight."

"Yeah, shouldn't be a problem. But… just in case."

"Have fun."

Bowser took the truck north on the small bridge freeway, alternatively known as the All-Cup Mushroom Bridge track, and made his way across the river and over the island upon which the main part of the city had been built. Fireworks in every hue and shape blazed overhead, and vendors from every angle proffered up steaming treats, spicy or sweet, as well as vividly-colored fans, noisemakers, live bouquets and balloons. Other stands held carnival games from which various prizes could be won—live goldfish or even koi, FBR trading cards, cheap cell phones, handmade ladies' sandals, or pennants bearing the seals of every country in time for the upcoming Kart tourney. He sped through into the dark outlying boroughs.

The yellow page address belonged to a chateau on some considerable acreage overlooking the massive river; if Kamek lived here, he wouldn't have had to leave his house to have the best view of the fireworks. Not to mention escape all the hubbub of the fair proper. Kamek had never been one for crowds, or chaos. Or fun, Bowser thought, laughing quietly to himself.

He parked on the other side of the street and quietly locked up. Lights were on in the charming house—good sign. Shadows shifted in one window beyond a small neo-romantic courtyard; Kamek? Or his wife? Or the wrong person entirely?

Shrugging, Bowser strode up to the heavy wooden front door and knocked twice. Or should he have rung the quaint brass doorbell to his left? Too late—he could hear footsteps approaching from within the house.

"Yes? Who is it?"

Bowser paled, hearing Kamek's unmistakable voice for the first time in ages. Images flashed before him—Kamek laughing—Bowser had come home enraged, clutching his first traffic ticket—Kamek frustrated—Bowser's physics grade dropped from an A to a C under a week, after—Kamek tired, sitting up all night next to Bowser, asleep in a hospital bed, critically injured after a fight at school first semester senior year—

"It's me," he replied softly.

The front door creaked open and there was Kamek, still wearing the same horn-rimmed glasses and wizened expression he'd had the last day Bowser had seen him.

"Well hurry up, you'll let the cold air out," he barked. Bowser instinctively scuttled inside at top speed.

"Kamek? Who're you letting in at this hour?"

A similarly-aged lady, presumably Kamella, entered the hall, carrying a large steaming mug and a stack of magazines.

"This is Saulus' nephew," the old man replied, his expression blank. "Bit of a troublemaker, this one. Don't be afraid to slap 'em around when he gets cheeky with ya."

"Come on, old man. I'm trying to be nice here."

"Nice! Nice, you say. Well sit down, for heaven's sake. You still drinking your coffee black?"

Bowser grinned. "Yeah."

They trooped into a cozy salon with an enormous south-facing atrium window. Fireworks silently blazed from the island on the other side of the river bend. Kamella placed a tray bearing mugs and a fat coffee pot on the table between the sofas and recliners.

"All-Cup's not til next week! What're you doing here early, eh?"

"Taking a break from the city for a bit. Everyone's here."

"Everyone, you say? Those gamblers and the two young ones and that hipster kid?"

"Yeah, Koopa's here. He brought his girlfriend with us, too. She's Throwing for him now, we stopped racing together a few weeks ago when she moved into town."

"Well, now. So you're out of the game this time around? I could have sworn you were a shoo-in for the All-Cup this season from what those TV announcers keep babbling…"

So Kamek had still been keeping tabs on him. Huh. "I'm still in. Got a new Thrower from the FBR. She's here too. And two others that used to race with the Mario clan."

Kamek's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "_You got Pauline to_…?"

"Naw. Luigi and his girlfriend Daisy. Peach's still with Mario and those boys."

"Figures. The last thing that young lady needs to have on her plate right now is another run-in with—"

"She's fine, old man."

"Huh. And… her sister?"

Bowser looked away. "Haven't heard from Rosalina in a while."

"I suppose she's busy up there in the heavens. It appears our magnificent government is at odds with that Galaxy Projects Systems of hers. Kamella, you…?"

"Oh, don't look at me, you old fool," his wife snapped without looking up from her gossip magazine. "If I never hear a political headline again as long as I live it'll be too soon."

Kamek chortled. "But when _was_ the last you spoke to her?"

Bowser closed his eyes in thought. When _had_ she contacted him last? Several months. Before his birthday. "Last November?"

"Hrrm. I see."

_You see what?_ "Wait, you mean you aren't working for the government anymore?"

"Kamella's long quit. I get called in every so often for some consultation, but other than that, enjoying some goddamn retirement for once in my sorry life."

"Okay…"

"Now, this new Thrower of yours. You always liked 'em lightweights."

"Yessir. Her name is Toadette. She's down at the festival with the others right now."

"Hrrm. A woman? How old—?"

"She's nineteen or twenty. Her growth was stunted, though, so she looks like a little kid."

"Huh. How'd you come by a Thrower like that? FBR lottery?"

Oof. "Uh, not quite…" An idea struck him. How much would Kamek know about Dry Bones? "She participated in the R&D department's racing acceleration program out in Dry Dry Des—"

Ding ding ding. Kamek appeared to bolt awake. "_Dry Bones'_ labs? How in _heaven_ did you manage to get mixed up with that crook?"

"Met him through Lakitu," he responded quickly. Not an entire lie. "What kind of crook is he?"

"Nothing you can't imagine," Kamek replied, giving Bowser _that_ look. The one—wait, then—his parents—"Yes, you know what I mean. I'm sure he's been keeping tabs on you since _that_ race. He sure as hell wouldn't be able to develop such advanced technologies for those labs on a normal government budget, don't you agree?"

"I don't know what went on in there, old man."

"Huh. Typical naïveté on your part. You be sure to watch that Thrower of his carefully."

"You think Toadette's his weapon or something? There's no—"

"Well, what would stop him?" Kamek rubbed his head. "She's probably there to spy on you at the very least. Those illegal races you kids put on back in the city? He has people everywhere watching out for talent hidden as civvies. If anything, he's looking for someone to pull into that same vortex Rex and April fell into, bless their souls—you get _any_ offers from him to sponsor you in any tournament whatsoever, you tell him _no, absolutely_ no!"

"I know, old man. I don't trust him either. And…" Bowser pulled his wallet from his pants pocket and showed Kamek its contents. "I feel like once he gets the message, my assets are gonna be frozen. I pulled all the cash outta my account the morning before we left town. I want you to keep at least half of it."

"And what, babysit your funds for you? Eh, I suppose I've done worse…"

"I don't care what you do with it," he replied. "I just can't have a ton on me right now. This whole point of this trip was just to make the withdrawal without arousing suspicion. It's common to load up on cash before staying in a town like this."

"Hm. Not as stupid as you used to be. Now, how much is in there? No mere gold coins from what I can see."

Bowser nodded. "Nope, this is roughly eight hundred thousand gold coins denominated in purples and silvers. I gave Toadette some of the blues and reds, the rest are hidden around the Mushroom City house."

"How sweet of you. Fine, I'll take half, but I shan't spend any of it. This half might be all you own if the king decides you're too much of a threat."

"A threat?" he raised one eyebrow. "He can't expect me to take on the entire bureaucracy with just word-of-mouth information."

"That's not what he fears most from you," Koopa murmured, gazing out the window. White-gold fireworks erupted over the shimmering dark waters.

"Then what, old man?"

Kamek shook his head. "You know how it is. I'll ask Rosalina to contact you once you return to the city. She's back on the planet this week, did you know?"

A jolt ran through his stomach. "What? Thought you said you didn't—"

"Har har. Look on a television for five minutes or read a newspaper and you can pinpoint her location. The government down here has practically been able to follow her every move since the Projects completion last year. I'm certainly glad I'm not her."

"You coulda told me that, you old fool," Kamella breathed as she sat down on the couch next to her husband. "I'd like to see the lovely lady again soon. Never met a more upstanding citizen. Thank God she got out of this place before—"

"But what is she _doing_? What is the Galaxy Projects? I keep hearing that phrase and I don't –"

"Huh. She can tell you that yourself once she meets ya. Well, you got any other great news for me n' my poor wife?"

"Oh…no…not that I know of…" He found himself being ushered back through the entrance, not against his will.

"Well, so long. Good of you to drop by. Go to that festival, make a fool of yourself, what else are you to do at your age in that place—"

"Kamek, I missed you," Bowser quickly interjected, looking at the wizard over his shoulder. "Take care. And Kamella. Tell her thank you for the coffee."

"Good boy. Watch yourself out there. The world's full of pricks in every shape and color and I'll be damned if I let one more trod on Rex's sweet boy."

The door slammed shut, and Bower became aware of the booming noises once again from across the ocean. Blue and green hearts, shimmering ghosts, Xs and Os in rotating rainbow beams.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"Bowser! Took you long enough!" Toadette skipped up to him and handed him a paper container laden with steaming takoyaki.

"Thanks." He chowed down.

"Hey, you look really good in that," Daisy murmured with starry eyes. "You should wear more golds…"

"Koopa picked it out," Paratroopa laughed. "And he won me this cute little goldfish! Double points."

"Maybe I'll score again soon?" he asked, gently pulling her into a side embrace.

She grinned, tracing her fingers gently across his shoulder. "Depends on your performance during the rest of this game."

"Yikes, looks like I'd better make my move fast."

"Well, you'd better not drop the ball on—"

"Oh, for Christ's sake, you two—" Bowser abruptly swallowed the last takoyaki whole. "Hey, look, a firebender."

"Ha. ADD much?" But the others followed him anyways.

The aforementioned performer danced upon a platform a few feet above the ground, pulling clumps of red fire around and around in circle and figure-eights and elegant slash marks as his movements grew faster and more complicated. Soon he disappeared entirely behind the arcs of flame.

The buzz of the crowds around him, the colors of the rest of the fairgrounds, the faces of his friends – all dimmed and faded while the fire grew. He felt his body temperature rise, his heartbeat skyrocket, the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up—

Suddenly, darkness. Everything around him cooled. He felt eerily at peace. What on Earth…?

_W-Who's there? _

And just as quickly he felt himself return to the fair, to the fire, to his friends. Someone was tugging on his jacket sleeve.

"Bowser? …Bowser?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry…" He shook his head, turning away from the spectacle while the rest of the crowds _ooh'_d and _ahh_'d at the sight.

"Dude…" Koopa carefully scrutinized Bowser's face and form, his expression quizzical.

"What's up?" They continued walking through the fairgrounds, past outposts and game booths and food stands from which wafted sweet and spicy scents. He suddenly felt great. Awesome. He nearly hummed to himself. Nearly.

"Did you not see what was happening to you?" Toadette's seafoam paper fan sliced back and forth through the air, agitated. "Your hands? Your hair?"

He shook his head, bemused. "Nope. What happened?"

The others exchanged glances.

"Hey, talk to me about it when we get home. There's something here I wanna buy." He strode toward a shop strung with glittering jewels of every color. It couldn't just be any jewel, however…

"Okay, but…" Toadette shrugged and slipped her little hand into his. He grinned, squeezing it for a second.

"Hey, help me find something that reminds you of outer space," he told her.

"Outer space? 'kay. How come you're in such a good mood?"

"Haha. I like festivals, I guess. This town is a nice place. We should all move here once Toad and Baby finish school."

"For real? No other reason?"

"Hn? I dunno."

"Hm. Oh, hey, look at this!" Toadette pointed to a teardrop-shaped charm. At first it simply appeared to be glittering dark blue, but Bowser peered closely into the jewel's center to find a nucleus of rotating sparkles. A galaxy of thousands of microscopic stars. Gorgeous.

"Toadette, this is perfect. Hey, pick out something you want, too."

"Really? Yay!" She continued to search around the shop as Bowser alerted the Noki salesman.

In spite of his request, no one mentioned anything to him about the fire show the rest of the evening, nor any of the days following. He shrugged it off, enjoying what time of the vacation he had left.

_Pick your battles_, Kamek had once told him. After all, a greater one approached.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

In hindsight, there was a ton of coffee in this chapter. Wonder where all that came from. …haha.

Good old NaNoWriMo, pulling me out of my stupor…


	9. Kinopio Toad

Hey everyone. Quick reminder: Check Katnoelle on livejournal for visuals for this fic. Hit "fanfiction" on the tabs cluster to the left. I think I have one up for the characters in typical RP-style actor lists and one of just cars. :9

And thank you MessengerofDreams for your nice review! Hopefully I'll be able to update more often once my midterms are out of the way.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Nine

"WHOA—pause it! Pause it!"

"Christ, Daisy, lemme get—" Bowser shuffled around until he found the DVD remote and hit the pause button.

"Perfect. Toadette! Get in here!" Daisy began frantically skipping about the room as though her feet had caught fire.

Bowser blinked. "Holy shit, you're _right_—"

"Hn?" Toadette popped her head over the bar into the den.

"Stand next to the TV for a second, will ya?"

Toadette cocked her head, then stepped next to the frozen TV set. Bowser grinned, then sunk into the armchair, giving a refreshed sigh.

"Is someone taping this? Wally!"

"Toadette, are you sure you're…?"

"Totally worth being a weabo."

"Koopa, aren't you technically Japanese anyways? You can't be a weabo if you aren't white—"

"True. Bahaha."

A young Genkai, frozen mid-blow on the television screen, looked exactly like Toadette in nearly every way possible. Same thick pink hair, same piercing eyes, same height and stature… Bowser slid off the armchair and rolled onto the floor.

"You're twins."

"I know, right?"

"That's _creepy_."

"Toadette, just—just leave, before he—"

Bowser's cell rang. He growled. "That's _it_, I am _so_ sick of this anti-climactic bullsh—" Then he read the number and slid the phone open. "Hello?"

"Bow! My friend! How is life treating you?"

_Friend. _Bowser felt a jolt run down his back. This_ wasn't _happening. He closed his eyes. _Calm down. Maintain your etiquette._ _Your friends are watching._

_Gonna talk to him outside_, he mouthed to his friends while stepping out onto the patio. He gently shut the sliding door behind him and lowered himself onto the top step of the florally decorated stoop.

"Me, I'm fine. What's… what's up?"

"Just thought I'd check in, say hello, nothing dreary."

"…okay…"

"And, of course, still wondering about your standing for your team's funding. Still ready and waiting, you just say the word!"

Bowser closed his eyes. "Hey. Dry Bones. Don't know how many times I need to repeat this, but I swear I've already paid the fees and boarding costs. Ages ago. My whole team was early-decision. Even if I wanted more from you, everything's taken care of. Flattered, but…" Laughter, on the other side of the line. It chilled him to the bone.

"_Independent_, eh. Alright, I see there's no swaying you, son. Remarkable…" Laughter. How awful it sounded. Grating, abysmal laughter. Something was up. "Remarkable."

Bowser rolled his eyes. "How… how's the work in the labs doing? Everything okay?"

"Ah! Yes, yes! Why, just now, our researchers have…" Dry Bones trailed off into a long-winded explanation filled with big words. Bowser tuned out. _This isn't going to end well._

"…but, yes, yes, you have a good heart, kid. I had simply wished to have a hand in funding for one of the greatest racers in the empire, but… if you're quite happy…you know how most _independent_ teams tend to end up in history…"

_They don't turn up at all. No one's heard of any great indie teams… _"I'm good. Um, anything else you wanted to…?

"Not at all. I do wish you'd have thought about this, Bowser. You don't know what you're turning down!" Was it just him, or had Dry Bones carefully slowed down and exaggerated each syllable of each word in that last statement…? _Gèsu_—

"Right. Look, if things were different, then maybe. But I don't need the money and seriously don't want you all to waste yours here. Maybe use it somewhere else, you know? One of the teams in dire need of financial aid?" An image of Mario came to mind. He perished the thought.

"Ha! Hahaha! Hahahaha!" Gales, gales of laughter following that. "Well, then. I'll definitely be around, Bowser. You know that. _Don't forget_." Dry Bones gave the final two words just the proper amount of verve so to burn them in Bowser's memory for all time.

"Got it, chief." Bowser snapped the phone shut, stuffed it in his back pocket, and lit a cigarette.

_Lord_.

The screen door slid open; Toadette slid onto the ground next to him, hugging her knees to her chest.

"…you were civil, for once. I was surprised."

"What, you heard that?"

"Some of it. Hard to hear over the TV."

"Huh."

"Bowser…I…"

Bowser blinked, transferring the cigarette to his other hand to keep the smoke from Toadette's face. "What's up?"

"Bow, you turned him down."

"Yes. I turned him down. Unless you didn't hear that part correctly."

"I don't think he's going to like that."

"You think I didn't get that?"

"No, but…"

"He threaten you at gunpoint to get me to buy into his shit? 's that why you're here, now?"

Toadette blinked, lost for words. "N-no… what….why would you—"

"Ugh, ignore that. Kamek made me kinda paranoid…long story…" That must have sounded awful. Toadette was no spy. He was too good at reading people.

"You think I'd work for _him_?"

"'course not. Gimme a break, this is a lot to deal with at once." Bowser puffed on the cigarette. "I'm not so much worried about Dry Bones as I am the people _he_'s working for." _Damn_, this would take a while to explain.

"Working for…you mean the government? Your uncle?"

He nodded. "Turning that guy down is pretty much going to guarantee me an unhappy future. I just did the opposite of what my uncle instructed me."

Her eyes widened. "Instructed..?"

"He specifically asked me to get in with Dry Bones… and I pushed him away. Yeah, he's just another link in the chain, of Lakitu and everyone else in the FBR. Only… you could say…his link is more important than all the others. The All-Cup sponsors are going to be _pissed_ if my unsigned team does too well. There's a serious chance you and I will come in first."

"Yes."

"Well, I just lost my uncle and Dry Bones a ton of money…and the other sponsors, as well. They're looking for the best people to sign to in turn raise their own revenues…Saulus is going to be paranoid that someone else will give me an offer too good to refuse, and he never stays paranoid long… lord knows what's going to happen now."

But, come on. The other option would only eventually lead to his own end, and possibly those of his friends. No way he'd pick that. At least _now_ he'd be able to figure a way out…surely…?

Toadette looked confused. "Your uncle won't let anyone but Dry Bones sign you on? Can't he sign on someone else?"

"I wish. But c'mon, Toadette. The only comparable racers are Yoshi and Birdo, who are under Baron Brr's funding along with the rest of Boo's gang."

No. There was one more. "…and Rosalina, if she ever decided to race again. But that would never happen. No, it's us they're going to be after, especially for this particular All-Cup. It's the fiftieth annual so there'll be interglobal live news coverage. He needs something to make him look good since he's screwed up our country economically, to say nothing of the environment." The more he thought about it, the more problems he seemed to inadvertently cause with his refusal to join up. Ha.

"So he refuses to get Dry Bones to sponsor anyone but you…why you? It's really just about race performance?"

"Hopefully. Wish I knew. Back when he had less power and money, he sponsored my parents—" Wait.

"Bow? What are you thinking about now?"

Bowser leaned back on the wooden planks of the deck and closed his eyes, dumping the cigarette onto an ashtray. A single moth buzzed about the lamp hanging from the patio roof. He watched it make a fatal mistake, perching on the lightbulb's glass casing. A thin blue jolt of electricity took the moth's life. He watched its limp body flutter down, drifting from side to side, until it disappeared beyond the edge of the deck onto the sparse grass below. Zap.

"I was wrong, Toadette. I know why he wants us. Why he wants me. You were just bait."

"Bait…? What—?"

"Toadette, when I told Dry Bones no, I rejected signing on to the fate of my parents. Does that make sense?"

She shook her head.

"I'll tell you more later. It's not safe here. That's all I can say now."

"Fine. But what will happen now that you said no? Can you think of what they might throw at you?"

"No. Hopefully it'll be better than the alternative…" But he wasn't so sure.

"Okay…but mostly, I think you need to tell everyone."

A bead of sweat ran down his cheek. The others. This was serious. Why hadn't he acted before? This—this had happened before—it—

The phone rang. _Again_. He picked it up, not caring who was calling. If Dry Bones had any more comments, so be it. But as he slid the keyboard down, he glanced at the caller ID, and his jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

"Hey, Bowser? It's me…" Peach's voice. "My sister's in town. She—"

_Whoa_. He could have guessed twenty, thirty other people ahead of her on the list of possible callers at this time and date. Christ in—

"Wait, what?"

"Rosalina's back! Bowser, are you—?"

"I'm here, sorry. Wait—your sister's in town? Thought she was—you know—up in space—"

"She is this week. Bow, Rosalina's going to be in the All-Cup this year!"

"_What_? Oh, God—" He accidentally slid the phone shut in surprise, but did not immediately redial. Let Peach call him back.

"Bow? Who was that?" Toadette sounded shaken. She searched his face, her eyebrows drawn in concern.

"Rosalina." Oh God. Where to begin?

"… Rosalina? You can't mean…?"

"_Rosalina?_" The side door flew open and Koopa, Baby, and Toad sat next to them. "Is that who called? Is this about the tourney…?"

"No—it wasn't—just Peach. But, yeah, she's—"

"Which Rosalina is this?" Toadette shrieked. Baby grimaced.

"Peach's sister."

"…and?"

"Peach's sister," Toad repeated gently. "Head of the Galaxy Projects out in space. Director of Communications with Alien Life-forms. Youngest politician with any kind of high public approval rating in the history of the world—"

"_That_ Rosalina is Peach's _sister_?" Toadette blinked, dazed.

Baby laughed. "You're surprised? Only training as rigorous as that of the Toadstool family's could have produced someone as capable as _that_."

"But… what's the big deal? She's in the All-Cup? I've just heard stories about her racing, but—"

"Oh God. There's no way we can go up against that. I don't care how long she's been out of practice, Rosalina's a _legend_—"

"You big baby, I'll explain." Koopa cleared his throat. "Of course, Bow can't have given us _all_ the details… but yeah. Rosalina. Peach's older sister. One of the most brilliant minds produced on this planet in—like Toad said—all of history. Aside from all her FBR and Comet Observatory hours, she actually also helped develop the most recent generation of Rainbow Road. Nearly won the All-Cup when she was eighteen, but there was a weird disruption in the race that year…" He cast a sideways glance at Bowser and hushed up.

"In short," Baby continued, "One of the most powerful people in the world, especially for someone outside of the FBR. It's a wonder they haven't bought her out yet, but she's got a backbone of titanium or something. Raised the majority of her cash herself—without her family's help!—and dodged every trap they've thrown at her so far. It's nuts. Wish I had whatever she's made of."

"She's really young, too," Toad cut in. "No way I can ever say that enough. Normal people her age don't have that kind of skill…except of course she's been raised in the Mushroom Kingdom family with all of their resources and intensive leadership training since practically birth…"

"Okay…" Toadette gazed at them, wide-eyed.

"I don't know what happened, but right about when the new king came into power, the old family died out. Peach was actually the next monarch in line—"

"Died out? Wait, so Rosalina was—?"

"—but then something weird happened, and her family disowned her." Baby exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I'll never get that."

Bowser knew the whole story, but it still shook him every time he heard it. And Baby didn't know the half of it. He sensed Toadette start.

"What_?_ I knew she left, but _disowned_…?"

"I know, right? That's prol'ly why Bow's so protective of her… but, yeah. Rosalina's still in the family, a regent of sorts maybe whenever the king's out of the country. Her dad gets tons of advice from her. She's something to fear… the Luma thing's always following her around… but she knows everything."

"It calls her 'Mama.' Hahaha."

"Hushup. So yeah. Wait, why were we talking about her in the first place?" Toad rubbed his forehead.

"She's back in town. Peach just called." Bowser shivered. How could the woman's sheer presence miles away suddenly freeze the very air?

"Oh yeah. She's also the only person in the whole universe that Bowser's scared of. She's the same height as him, now that I think about it—"

Toadette did a double-take. "You're scared of Peach's sister? Why?"

"I wouldn't put it that way. She… it's complicated." Oh, Christ.

"He never explains, ever. Lordy. But you can see it in his eyes! Look—" He ducked, narrowly avoiding getting socked in the face by a spiked fist.

"I dunno either. What'd she do to you, man?"

Bowser shook his head. If _only_ he could breathe fire…

The phone rang again. He picked the phone up, slowly—his hands were shaking uncontrollably—and slid it open.

"Hello." Rosaline's unmistakably deep, cool voice reverberated over the line like a waterfall of ice.

"Hey. S—Sorry for accidentally hanging—"

"Of course. Lines get dropped all the time."

Silence, for a bit. Bowser couldn't be the only one holding his breath.

"…so…?"

"Just checking up on you. Peach called you immediately when I arrived here."

"Um, yeah. What… brought you to town?"

"Things need to be taken care of. We need to meet before the All-Cup."

He felt himself turn white. "Um... okay… when do you want to meet? Are you… are you in it… this year? Peach said—"

"Yes, Bowser, I am participating in the All-Cup this year." He heard a distinct _thump_ as Baby slid to the ground.

"Okay… okay… when do you want to meet…?"

"You can find me at the usual venue tomorrow at noon once I settle things here," she replied. "You don't have to come alone. Bring a friend. Bring anyone." She sounded tired, he realized.

"…sure thing. What… what is it you wanted to talk about?"

"A friend of a friend. Just checking up."

Silence.

It was her code. _I'm not safe right now. Maybe bugged._

Bowser felt weary.

"Bowser."

"…yeah?"

"You need to relax. See you tomorrow." She chuckled and the line gently clicked off.

He slid the phone shut and stuffed it into his pocket, not wanting to talk. What was going on? Had she found out about him working with Dry Bones? Or was something else happening? He sensed Koopa and the others growing antsy.

"What happened?"

"You okay?"

"Bowser? Are you—?"

"Inside. Now."

They followed him in.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Three A.M.

"So anyone from our team is fair game for this guy? Sounds like he won't pull any punches if he's after you." Wario inspected a gold coin as he turned it about in his fingers. "What kind of stuff could he throw at us?"

"I don't know. He could rig the races, beef up our opponents with all kinds of crap, maybe even arrange for extra obstacles if he thought that would do the trick…" Bowser licked his teeth, mentally going over the options. "So. I'm serious here. Anyone who wants to bow out of the race, you have my blessing. I don't want any of you hurt, not from him. "

"Are you kidding?" Toadette asked, breaking the mood. Bowser blinked.

"Toadette—"

"Bow, if you think we're gonna let you face that guy alone, you've got another thing coming," Koopa continued for her.

Daisy and Paratroopa looked up as well. "This will be my first real race ever," Paratroopa told him. "If I have any hope of sticking with you guys, surely we can beat him. We're not stupid, Bowser. I know he's a shady guy and he's probably done disgusting things to Toadette and the others back at those labs. We might as well call it war. Someone's gotta fight him." Her eyes flashed menacingly behind her red-framed glasses.

The others leapt to their feet. It was both terrifying and comforting to him. But there was no way. He wouldn't allow it. "Toadette, you were the one who said we could get hurt in the first place—"

"Yeah, that's what I said, but we can't let him have his way! We've got to confront him and his company. I can't say I know for certain, but I feel like you've been through terrors yourself. Whatever stuff he comes up with, it can't be worse than the obstacles they already have in the races." She continued to look up at him, her brilliant green eyes never blinking.

He had had to explain the situation several times from many angles, tiptoeing carefully around Dry Bones' history with his parents. No one had left. Toad and Baby sat hunched over on the sofa, glaring at him as well. Bowser felt himself shaking.

"Okay."

"YES!"

"…but not you two."

The teenagers leapt to their feet in fury. "_What_? C'mon, Bow, don't push us off just because we're still minors! We're as much a part of this as you—"

"No. Absolutely not. If you get hurt, how am I going to tell your parents—"

"How can you tell anyone's parents anything?" Toad hissed. "Mine only see me once a year! What about Paratroopa's parents, how are they any different? I need this more than any of you—"

"_What_?"

Silence. Toad turned slightly, and looked at Toadette. Bowser felt his heart rate skyrocket.

"I can't cover for you anymore, Toadette. Sorry."

"Can you talk?" she replied. Not the answer Bowser had expected. "If there are any Shy Guys tapping the—"

"I can talk," he answered. "I need to. Might help all of us, in one way or another. And I can't stand it any longer."

Toadette nodded but said nothing. The silence was deafening.

"Toadette," Baby finally murmured, clutching Toad's hand. "Who are you?"

Time passed. Toadette nodded, kneading her hands together. Bowser recognized this to be a sign of anxiety for her.

"This… started a long time ago," she finally replied. "Toad knows part of it. He's been extraordinarily accommodating of me all this time so please don't get mad at him."

Bowser glanced at Toad, standing a few inches away from Toadette, one of his hands in Baby's. The beanie-clad blonde stood noticeably a good head taller than Toadette, though relatively short himself. Other than glaring differences such as hair and eye color, they looked eerily similar now that he had the chance to notice. Uncannily similar.

"I volunteered to join the Federal Bureau of Racing," she continued, at almost a whisper, "at ten years old. My father took me to a Karting convention for my birthday. And… he was there." Bowser realized with a start that she meant Dry Bones. _Oh, no_…

"He talked to my dad for a while. It…didn't take place quickly. The offer was lucrative—the equivalent of free primary and secondary schooling for me—but ultimately it was my decision. I…" She jerked her head vaguely in Toad's direction. "I had never beaten my little brother in a race in my life. Not once. Racing was in his blood, yet not mine somehow. Even though I was older, and wanted to win just as badly…I couldn't…"

"Toadette—" Daisy had caught on, her expression alarmed.

"Never. And my dad said it was a big decision, but it looked like a nice school and that if I wanted to go, he would send me. A few months later… I packed everything, and they came with me on the plane, and we rode out into the desert and we met with him and he showed me around. Then they took my parents into another room for debriefing. I…" Her voice cracked. "I haven't seen them since."

Bowser made to stand up again, but Wario held him back. _Let her talk,_ he whispered. He was that close to breathing fire in rage.

_He destroyed their _memories_. The FBR can't afford loose ends if something bad happened to her—he ripped their family apart—_

She sniffed. "I hadn't seen my brother in nearly a decade. They changed what they could about my appearance—my hair, my eyes… they classified me as a lightweight, stunted my growth so I'd never even be as tall as the rest of my family—but you still knew me. I thought… you'd dismiss me, as some dream… they destroyed every record, one of my friends there had told me. I wouldn't exist out there. I exist only to be perfect, to evolve with each race… I exist for racing." She sounded as though she had recited that last part many times. "Just like I'd asked for."

Daisy covered her mouth with one hand and turned away. Toadette nodded and sat on a lone armchair near the fireplace. "You were right. I apologize for not explaining sooner."

"What if we took you to see your parents now? What would happen?" Luigi scratched the back of his head in thought. Bowser could guess.

Toadette quickly shook her head. "I can't. Just because I'm out of the labs now doesn't mean I'm no longer under their control. Does that make sense?"

"Can you communicate with them? Your parents?" Bowser asked. He had meant to wait until later, but now that she was on a roll he might as well get it over with. And, somehow, he felt as though he knew the answer.

"No. Even if I knew where they were, there's a danger of getting deported straight back to the labs for another ten years."

Daisy winced. "God _damn_, those people…Toadette…"

Wait a minute. Bowser glanced around the room before asking, "What about Toad? How is he in on this?"

The teenager in question threw his head back and laughed. "That was some work I did on my own," he replied. "You all saw how that ended up. My family's completely separated now. It's why I have to live with Baby all year."

"Explain." The abilities of his uncle always simultaneously disgusted and intrigued Bowser. The monarch's ability to hush up his actions nearly competed with his sheer flair for brutality.

"I asked my parents to register me as a youth scout when I turned thirteen. By now, I have the same powers and privileges as the typical B-class Shy Guy."

That got Bowser's attention. "Keep going."

"I found Toadette about a year ago while cleaning up some of the FBR files as one of my duties. Soon as I read that information, it was like a light bulb clicked on in my head and all the constraints they had performed on my memories had lifted. Arranging to act as the Shy Guy-level agent to keep an eye on her—they knew they'd be letting you out soon, just waiting for the opportunity—took about three days." He tilted his head from side to side, meaning he could say no more. The others picked up on it immediately.

"Well, that was convenient." Baby collapsed back into the sofa. "Amazing, actually. Damn, bro."

Toad scratched his head sheepishly. "Some things are worth it." He gently wrapped an arm around Toadette, who squeezed his hand.

"So yeah. We're kicking this guy's ass." Koopa dusted his hands off. Bowser nearly laughed in spite of himself.

"Toad? Can I ask something about your duties?"

"I can't answer all questions, but shoot."

"What about Petey? Who's—"

"Catherine," he replied before signaling clampdown once again. _Birdo_, Bowser realized. Lord.

"You gotta get to bed," Luigi told him, "if you're meeting with Rosalina tomorrow. Maybe we should send someone with you so you don't faint."

"Shut up."

"It's late in general. Anyone not sleeping over had better scram before the night police get to this side of town." Koopa stood up and stretched.

"Just what I need," Toad growled. "A bunch of Fly Guys in my hair. Bowser…"

"Yes?"

"You can't keep us from racing."

He kneaded his forehead. "…I know I can't."

"Get some sleep. 'night, Toadette."

"See you tomorrow. Try not to pee yourself in front of Rosalina."

"Shut up."

They cleared out of the apartment and Bowser helped Toadette into the truck. So much, in one little night…

"I'm sorry."

Bowser started. "About what?"

"Everything."

"What could you possibly have to apologize for? We love you, Toadette. We always will. Just have to get back into the real world a step at a time."

"Daisy looked really upset."

"Daisy loves you too. She didn't like hearing that they'd cut you off from the world for ten years. I didn't, either. And there's more people there like you? I can't stand that guy, Toadette. I'm just thankful we found out about all of this. He shouldn't be able to control people like that… no one should."

Toadette looked away, her hands still clenched in her lap. Bowser sighed, then pulled her into a tight hug. He was acting awfully fluffy this evening. Nerves, surely.

"It's going to be okay, Toadette. We're here for you." He gently shut the door and then hopped into the drivers' seat. After several minutes, she spoke.

"…can I turn on the radio?"

"Absolutely."

They surfed home on a wave of metal.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

I wonder how many drama clichés I can abuse before chapter 12…

Disclaimer: That TV show episode near the beginning of the chapter, for the uninitiated of you readers, is from Yu Yu Hakusho. It's one of those anime series that one cannot afford to miss. Do yourself a favor and get on it.

To those of you who know me personally: Yes, I survived Mardi Gras. Yes, I have stories. No, I'm keeping my Muses beads for myself and my family. Sorry. Hehe.


	10. Rozetta and Pauline

We get to see a point of view outside Bowser's for the first time here. Not for the last.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Ten

"Bowser? …C'mon, you gotta get up."

"Hn…?"

Toadette's voice. So it was morning already. _Damn_.

He blearily opened one eye. Still dark outside. No matter how much he'd hoped.

"Rosalina said noon, right? It's eleven now. Wanted you to get as much sleep as possible, but…"

"Thanks." He sat up and cracked his neck. Yeouch.

Toadette hopped up from the red armchair and skipped uninvited into his closet. "So what's this HyperStella place like? Formal? I feel like if Rosalina stays there it has to be five-star. She's one of those people, you know? On a completely different plane from normal society. Light years away…"

"Uh…" He looked out the window. Rosalina…the call. "Doesn't matter. I got a pair of jeans on the floor somewhere in there, can you toss 'em to me?"

"These? You wore them yesterday! The hems are all scuffed, too. Here…" She threw him a different pair, darker and with pewter studs near the belt. "And…ooh, please wear this with it!" A shirt came flying at his face. He caught it just in time and pulled it on. Dark gray button-down. Nothing obnoxious, but the material was extremely smooth. He couldn't remember where he had procured it.

"Toadette...? Uh, why—?"

"I want you to look nice!" she shrieked from his closet. Bowser started, unaccustomed to that many decibels before noon.

As they made their way down to the garage, he realized she had also put on a little more than her usual getup—one of the jumper skirts he remembered costing double or triple most of her other ones, and the most confusing shoes he had seen so far in his short life. For starters, she stood several inches taller today than she had yesterday.

"So how… tall are you now? Five foot five? Six?"

She giggled. "I dunno. Which car are we taking?"

He made a show of gazing up and down the garage, ostensibly surveying the options before them. "We should take the Phantom."

"Eek! Yay!"

The monster's vintage white leather interior definitely played a role in calming his nerves as he swerved onto the freeway. It cruised over the dark road, a veritable missile homing in on its target, a grand neo-classical structure just east of the Judicial district. The building housed multiple apartments over a fine restaurant on the ground floor. A synthetic creek flowed by the outdoor dining patio, a trickle rather than a roar. Golden lanterns reflected off the surrounding foliage, reflecting moodily along the water.

"Are you nervous?" Toadette asked. "She sounded pretty curt over the phone. I've never met her in person, though."

"Nothing to be nervous over," he murmured. "I just meet with her every few months, is all." Why was Toadette acting so hyper now? After the crap from last night her shrilling was positively jarring. Hm.

"How come? A checkup?"

"I dunno. It's not as big a deal as you think." He felt the fine quality silk shirt Toadette had picked for him ripple over his shoulders as he pulled one window down. Way too nice. He was thankful.

"Then why'd you pick the Rolls, huh? No big deal, but too big a deal for the truck?"

He rolled his eyes, avoiding Toadette's gaze. "Hush."

"Parking is five coins, sir," a valet chimed as he pulled up into the InterStella's porte-cochere. This one was not a typical government-supplied Shy Guy but a sparkling steel Gearmo. The bubbly A.I. rolled neatly in place, clad in a tastefully simple white dress sash bearing the Comet Observatory seal. The insignia's cobalt and pearl design sent a jolt down Bowser's spine nonetheless.

"Thanks. C'mon, Toadette."

He helped her out onto the cool gray cobblestone garden path and onto the ivy-tressed front porch. Clients of all shapes and sizes sat at round tables along the colonnade, just visible in the darkness thanks to soft lavender and sky-blue candles placed carefully throughout the vicinity. Another Gearmo held open one of the double-doors and they stepped through into the restaurant proper.

"Mama-san is this way," he heard a high voice call. _Luma, _whom he'd nearly forgotten. Luma, slightly older now yet ever as sunny in disposition, standing hands-clasped in front of a tall, multi-paned window.

"This place is gorgeous," Toadette breathed as they followed the radiant boy through a large warm dining room. The dim lighting and dark wood paneling gave the place a cozy, though not oppressive, atmosphere. He looked up at the ceiling; instead of sporting the typical wood beams or exposed vents characteristic to the rest of the venues in town, HyperStella appeared to open right up to a gorgeous night sky, countless tiny multicolored pinpricks of light shimmering in clusters and strands above their heads. The view, however synthetic, took his breath away every time.

_This is what she sees when she wakes up every morning_, he thought to himself ritually.

Then again, were the restaurant located anywhere else on the planet, the room would be filled with glorious bright light shining through the high windows. Not in Mushroom City.

Luma led them not to the usual table but instead into a private room behind the bar. Bowser held the door open for Toadette, glancing back toward the restaurant. Hopefully no one had seen—

"Are you Rosalina?" Toadette tiptoed into the softly-lit lounge, her voice suddenly soft. Bowser whipped around, feeling the blood leaving his face.

"That would be me," she replied, her velvety voice sinking gently into him, pooling beneath his skin and jolting his muscles taut.

Rosalina sat curled up on one end of a thick cream-colored sofa, gently shutting a thin white Fawfuljitsu in her lap. A china cup half-filled with coffee steamed on the end table next to her underneath a delicate flower stem arrangement. Her thick blonde hair cascaded down her back and shoulders and spilled onto the couch—much longer than Bowser had remembered. She wore a flowing sky blue dress with a pristine white brooch on the scooped neckline.

"Oh—sorry…I…this is Toadette," he spluttered unprofessionally. He needed more sleep.

Rosalina extended one long-fingered hand. Toadette grinned and shook.

"A pleasure. Please, get comfortable. Bowser, you get taller every time I see you."

A Gearmo rolled up as Toadette perched onto a lavender-colored velvet ottoman. Bowser gingerly sank into another fat cream couch opposite Rosalina's.

"Coffee? Tea? Scone?" The robot proffered a plate of pastries as another behind it appeared with more china cups. Bowser blinked, overwhelmed.

"Just leave them here, please," Rosalina murmured, sipping from her own cup. "They can help themselves."

"Mama-san, this subject has returned to the city," the second Gearmo chirped, displaying to her a wide screen filled with text.

She nodded. "Thank you. Please mark it for me when you have the chance. Any word from Kamella?"

The first Gearmo buzzed affirmatively. "Kamella-san left one message via telephone prior to eight a.m. this morning. I shall leave another note with that information if you so choose."

"Perfect. You have my thanks."

"Please call if you are in need of assistance," they piped in unison before exiting the lounge.

Rosalina kneaded her brow. Bowser closed his eyes. "Kamella? As in Kamek's wife?"

"Yes, Bowser. She's been helping me keep tabs on things here in the Mushroom Kingdom while I've been away. Very kind." She sipped her coffee again. Toadette bit into a blueberry scone.

"I just saw them last week when we were there. Thought she was keeping out of government work."

Rosalina gave a soft laugh. "She certainly does not work for the Mushroom Kingdom any longer, at least since Saulus Giga-Bowser came into power. Instead she has been assisting me personally as a worker for the Galaxy Projects. Small things."

"Ah, okay, makes sense." He had not realized it at the time, but Kamella's refusal to work for his uncle struck him as touching, and brave.

"Kamek…" Toadette swallowed the scone and put her plate down. "Bowser, you mentioned him a couple of times. He took care of you? And Kamella is his wife?"

Bowser nodded. "Yeah. He served the King up until two years ago. Got appointed to look after me when my parents passed away."

"So he retired when you were no longer a minor."

"Yeah."

"He… he just left you? As soon as—"

"Kamek did his duty, no more. He can't stand the King. I can't even tell people that except for when we're out of his jurisdiction. But yeah, when I reached adulthood he took off."

"Can't stand?" Toadette went silent for a moment. "He's…not loyal to…?"

Rosalina nodded. "As far as the public and press know, it was the council who voted to retire my family from regency and select a new monarch. And, supposedly, his Highness King Saulus Giga-Bowser was the most appropriate candidate for the position, even with the tragedy in his family at that time."

"Tragedy—when his brother died? Bowser's father?" Toadette bit her lip. "Taking on those responsibilities must have been difficult for him after losing someone so close. But I don't know…" She trailed off.

Silence. Bowser watched Rosalina's eyes fade in and out of focus, until she met his gaze. How complex, the look in her eyes. Heavy, always burdened with too many thoughts to count. Burdened, but aware, gleaming. Conscious. He felt his stomach tighten. Something felt off. Always.

"There's…there's something else, isn't there?" Bowser averted Toadette's glare. She looked instead to Rosalina. "What really happened? Why…why doesn't this information… sound right?"

"I would... prefer Bowser explain everything to you," Rosalina murmured. "I've had to be the bearer of bad news one time too many in my life."

Bowser glanced up, surprised. "But keeping it from me wouldn't have been right either. Everything is so fucking screwed up now, to act like he did nothing would be just as wrong…right?" The words came out more quickly than he had intended. He swallowed.

She blinked. "If you say so. Sometimes I wonder if I made the correct decision…if telling you really did change anything for the better."

His right calf muscles clenched again. But no running, not from this. "I think you did."

Toadette said nothing, though clearly lost. Bowser felt a headache coming on.

"Never mind that. There will be plenty of time for talking later." Rosalina closed her eyes and stretched. Bowser looked away, unsure of what to think. _What else? What else...?_

"Yes, to the point. I told you last night that Luma and I have signed onto Team Mario for the All-Cup."

Bowser froze. "You didn't say anything about Team Mario."

Rosalina's eyes sparkled. "Well, it's been several years since I've last raced. It would be much safer with a team…so for once the team will have three Karts. As it happens, Luma and I are able to alternate racing positions on the fly."

"But…why?"

"To watch out for you. Kamek has noticed activity that he felt merited...personal attention, from myself."

Bowser glanced back at her, panicked. "_Why_? What else is happening now that I don't know? Kamek wouldn't...I don't..."

She blinked, as though startled. "There, I thought it would manifest somewhere." Her words were too quiet; had she not meant to utter them?

"What?"

"Bowser. If anything happens, I swear I will tell you. I asked you to come here so I could see how you were doing before the All-Cup starts up again. Please try to bear with me for the time being." She poured more coffee for everyone, her face unreadable.

"Yeah? Then what merits dropping everything you have in space to come run a three-week karting race?"

Rosalina nodded, conceding. "When I say I wish to grant you extra protection for the next several races, it is because I myself don't know what that man is planning. Any information you can give me I will try to supplement with any statistics I've noticed in my work."

"Bow?" Toadette finally caught his eye. "What happened three years ago? You can't tell me?"

He shook his head before looking back at Rosalina. With a jolt he realized she was barefoot, again. She had a single toe ring, platinum with an aqua star-shaped gem.

"Can you tell her? For me? Please?" He had rarely come so close to begging before. Only once. For the same information—for himself.

"For you." She gently set the cup back onto its saucer; it clinked quietly, a small bell-like noise. "What would you like to know?"

"How… did Bowser's uncle come to be King? I think…I think that should cover it." Toadette bit into a scone, chewing softly.

"Yes. It would." Her voice returned now to the way Bowser had always remembered it—low, serious, monotone. "The following information can only be discussed outside Giga-Bowser and his Shy Guys' jurisdiction, namely any vicinity strictly under Galaxy Projects' control or within the boundaries of the bordering states." Her words bore the dull perfection of a statement long rehearsed.

"He—that is, Saulus Rex Giga-Bowser, Subcon graduate and elder son of the notable solicitor Saulus Kerog, was not elected by the council the way the people have been taught to think. Rather, he blackmailed all nine members into requesting decreasing my family's status to that of basic citizens and elevating his from FBR manager to monarchical. Normally they would have been completely against it, but his threats were so severe and well-backed that they could not refuse for fear of starting a violent outbreak, or…war."

Toadette's eyes bugged out of her head. "_War_? Wait—how could he have so much power to threaten the council?"

"He had money," Bowser answered. "A lot of money."

Rosalina shot him an alarmed look. "Should I stop?"

"No. Tell her the truth. I want her to know the truth." He set his mug back onto the coffee table, just in case. Rosalina bit her lip in a moment of silence before continuing.

"He… obtained enough wealth… to buy mercenaries, and weaponry and alliances with the nearby Sarasaland states of Kyōryū, Victoria and Birabuto. No word on anywhere east of the deserts, but at that point he had also seized a sizeable amount of sensitive government data…" She rubbed her eyelids, exhaling slowly. "It was a nightmare of a situation. My family was never one to stock up on weapons. We had no means of defending ourselves from him. Even to this day, it...everything still..."

"This all happened three years ago?"

"A few more than that; someone had expertly covered his paperwork trail. It was with his own money that he first reached out to the regents of the countries I listed. His brother and sister-in-law… died… about three years from this past December. It was one month afterward that when he approached the council with newly-hired soldiers and newly-purchased weapons and items from... from recently-acquired funds, so we can assume the transactions took place somewhere in that period." She swallowed. "My parents had not had the foresight to anticipate what such a powerful man was planning. I had not had the foresight."

"One month? Then he was busy the entire time Bowser's parents died and right after? Wait, then where did the rest of that money come… come from…" She stopped, breathless. "Bowser?"

"…yeah?" She could infer it from that point.

"Did the money…have to do with how your parents died?"

Silence. He nodded to Rosalina.

"Yes, Toadette, it did." Her gaze hardened. "Bowser may have hinted to you earlier that his parents were phenomenal racers, I don't know. Perhaps not. But it is very true. They were world-class. Competed in intergalactic tournaments, always cleaned up at the global level, the works. They beat everyone, every time. Took second place perhaps once or twice a year at most. They were Kerog Rex and his wife April."

Her voice was so soothing, he realized. Calming. Everything around her seemed tranquil as she spoke. He felt himself beginning to drift, in spite of Toadette's rapid transition from awe at the revelation of Bowser's immediate ancestry to the horror of what exactly Rosalina was about to tell her.

"Naturally, the official races involved organized betting. It's still a very common practice today, no doubt thanks to your uncle." She nodded. "During the winter All-Cup three years ago, everything seemed to proceed as normal. I remember very clearly because I myself was in the race—"

Toadette inhaled sharply. "Really? How old were you?"

"Nineteen. Younger than Bowser is now, if I'm correct."

"You're only twenty-two now?"

Rosalina gave a short, humorless laugh. "I probably look older than I should, after all that. In any case…" She picked up her coffee and sipped again.

Bowser watched her hands shake, mystified.

"In any case, we started off well. All of the race venues are kept secret until days before each race, save for the last and first…Rainbow Road, and Luigi Stadium, respectively. No alterations of any kind had been detected on the course, and so the race began as usual.

"A few seconds later, however, everything was…was interrupted. A blast went off in the center of Luigi Raceway, right under the kart in first place at that moment." Rosalina exhaled sharply. "Not a race-regulation explosion. This one was illegal. Somehow it had been planted in spite of the highest security the FBR had to offer.

"It was clearly to rig the betting. The race was halted, the officials in a frenzy. All of the people who had placed money on the expected kart lost everything to a single man who had bet on the unlikely possibility of their DNF, not banking on situation validity."

Toadette shrunk back into the armchair, her eyes wide in disgust. "And… and that was the King? He rigged the race?"

"Yes. It was with the money he won from rigging the competition that he could purchase the means to blackmail the council."

"_He killed his own family?_"

Rosalina jerked her head affirmatively, likely at a loss for words.

Toadette closed her eyes, hugging her knees to her chest. "That… that's the situation now? Bowser—Bowser, you've known about this the entire time?"

"He can't tell anyone, Toadette. In the time since Giga-Bowser has become the regent, it has become commonplace for anyone speaking out against him or the government to be jailed, their assets frozen." Rosalina picked up the newspaper that had been laying on an adjacent end table and tossed it to her. Bowser glimpsed the headline. _SG Forces Incarcerate, Incinerate 50+ member Dissent March_.

_Idiots_, he thought to himself. _If you're going to overthrow them, do it in secret. The Shy Guys are everywhere._ Everywhere.

"But—that's—"

"It is tyranny," Rosalina replied, her voice cold as steel. "It is the kind of thing the leadership of the Galaxy Projects abhors. I have done everything in my ability to limit the King's power, but navigating cleanly around his newly-created red tape is little short of impossible." She refilled her cup again. "But I am eternally grateful to Bowser for insisting you know the full story, as much as I hate to recount it."

He blinked. Were they talking about him? Something…

"Bow, you asleep?" Toadette pushed a lock of hair from his face. He shook his head, drowsy.

"Almost. Sorry…"

Rosalina looked upon him in a mixture of concern and horror. "Have you been getting enough sleep? The coffee isn't decaffeinated…"

"He went to bed really late last night," Toadette whispered. Bowser remembered with a start the events of the night before, and cursed inwardly.

Rosalina's eyes widened. "What happened, Bowser? You sounded worried when you picked up yesterday."

"Yeah…" He kneaded his forehead. "Um, it's a bit of a long story…"

He explained the situation with Toadette and Dry Bones, and of the extreme likelihood of—

"Saulus told you to seek out Dry Bones?" the blonde breathed, ashen-faced. Bowser could not recall seeing Rosalina so distressed, even when—

"Yeah, but after Toadette made it safe I turned him down. All his offers. He wanted to fund my whole team. But I said no. Kamek's orders." She would know what that meant. "And I didn't want to in the first place. But the stupid move on my part was getting my team involved." He rubbed his neck, feeling his insides burn.

Rosalina reached over the side of the couch and pulled up a thick blue blanket, pulling it tightly around herself. "Cold in here," she quickly explained.

"But how do I… how do I _fight_ that kind of guy? I don't know what moves he could pull, or even if he's going to—d'you think my uncle—?"

"Your uncle and Dry Bones go back further than either of us would like. They both attended the same private university south of Toad Town. My alma mater, as it so happens."

Toadette's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "You went to _Subcon_? They have a _four_ _percent_ acceptance rate! It's a reach school for Toad, and he's the valedictorian in his class!"

Rosalina chuckled. "It's definitely a prestigious school. I'm still working to complete my Masters' along with my administration at the Projects. But the King and Dry Bones have always been close, so to speak. I imagine your laboratories received a lot of nice equipment three years ago?"

Toadette nodded quickly. "Yes, that's right. Practically the entire complex was revamped. Nicer living areas, neater experiments, more… more people…" Her shoulders drooped. "Petey left before then."

One pale blonde eyebrow rose. "Are you referring to the Petey Piranha signed under Baron Brr? Team Banshee?"

Bowser nodded to Toadette. "That's him. Boo's team."

Rosalina grinned, but Bowser caught a trace of pain in the smile. "I suppose he's told you his story…?"

"I know he's from the Projects. We were… close at the labs," she replied.

Bowser jolted awake. "How close?"

"I'll tell you later."

"Toadette."

"Please."

He kneaded his forehead. This was the last thing he needed on his mind right now. "Fine."

Rosalina closed his eyes. "Thank the heavens I found out about all this in time. This is it, Bowser. He's making his move. I will do everything in my power to help you avoid the same stunt Saulus pulled with your parents."

"Everything in your power? Like the entire universe?" If only he'd slept more, he could continue actually having productive conversation at this point. Screw it.

Thankfully she laughed. What a gorgeous sound. He felt himself melting. "Yes. The entire universe. Make sure you and your team are willing to act quickly should I send you last-minute plan changes. Understand?"

"Yeah. I told them about how Dry Bones might rig up the races and make it legit dangerous… but no one backed down. What do you think about that?"

Rosalina eyed him and Toadette with a mixture of delight and apprehension. "I think that you have a group of very brave people at your side."

"What about you? Toadette asked. "Peach is still okay with racing? Who all is on that team?"

"Peach and Mario aren't targets the way you are. Not anymore. But I admit they are very admirable in their insistence on helping me fight against this monster. You'd think it was their destiny to restore justice to the Mushroom Kingdom."

_Destiny_. Bowser closed his eyes. What destiny would he have? Oblivion, at the hands of Dry Bones and Giga-Bowser? Or could Rosalina and her army of shiny comet boys wrest him from that fate? Not that he believed in any of that destiny crap.

"Just you and that other two-person kart? Not much of a team. Bowser has…what…five karts? Ten people."

"Bowser has one of the larger teams in the All-Cup, which says something about the quality of your racing as a whole. No, my team is three karts this year—I'm with Luma, Mario and Peach, and the boys."

"Please tell me they're leaving that god damn Chain Chomp at home," Bowser grumbled without opening his eyes. "Thing is a monster."

Rosalina laughed. "It's their registered item for the tourneys. My advanced apologies."

"Do I wanna know?" Toadette inquired. "I mean, considering Bow's item, anything that alarms him that much has gotta be awful…"

"Whenever that _thing_ shows up on your radar," he breathed, "get the fuck outta the center of the road. All I wanna discuss on that subject."

"Yikes. Hey Bow, you feeling okay?" She herself still sounded slightly shaken. He had to hand it to Toadette for keeping calm and carrying the hell on to the best of her ability.

"Eh." Either that was some damn weak coffee or he was improbably exhausted. The latter, clearly. He could still taste the coffee on the back of his tongue. He curled up on the couch, fatigued mentally as well as physically. Even after over seven hours of sleep. What…?

Seconds later Rosalina pulled out another blanket and threw it over him. That, if anything, would finish him. Warmth. It did make sense, that she would know his true weakness.

"I think we'll let him rest for now. It sounds as though you all are in a rather stressful situation at the moment."

"You could say that." Toadette glanced around the room. "Okay. Do I… have to hang here, or can I walk around…?"

"This street is very safe. I feel like taking a walk now as well. But you must understand—we can only hold conversations like these in certain strongholds with higher jurisdiction than that of the Mushroom Kingdom. Galaxy hotspots, if you will."

"I understand. Can I come with you?"

He sensed Rosalina standing up. "Of course. I'd like to chat with you, if you don't mind. Now, where did I leave my shoes…?"

"Ooh, these are your slippers? Here, under the table—Bowser, you still awake?"

"Yeah." Barely. What was it about Rosalina's domain that encouraged him to soften up like this? Had he any more energy he'd soon consider meditating, or whatever shit Daisy would do daily to keep from going ballistic. Yoga. Christ.

"We'll be back in a bit, okay? I know you didn't sleep well at all last night..." Toadette stroked his hair and tiptoed out of the room.

Rosalina quickly refreshed her email on one of the laptops on the coffee table; six messages had appeared since they had begun talking. He watched her fire off rapid replies before shutting the computer again.

"Rosalina… here…" He squeezed one eye shut, fishing around in his pocket for his wallet. She crept up to him, her expression as quizzical as he had ever seen.

"Yes? What…"

"Found this for you at a festival. Toadette picked it out." He pulled out the midnight glass necklace with the tiny teardrop galaxy pendant and held it up to her.

She halted, stunned, for a few moments before crouching down to take it from him and immediately gazed into the midnight blue stone.

"This is…this is gorgeous," she breathed, turning it at different angles. "Why…?"

He shrugged, not knowing the answer himself in his stupor. "It looks like you." As one-liners went, he gave it a nine out of ten.

She laughed gently before clasping it around her neck, pushing her hair out of the way. One soft golden lock brushed his collarbone.

"Get some rest. Luma or the Gearmos can bring you any food you want from the restaurant once you wake up. My tab. We'll be back in a while."

"'kay."

"And… thank you for coming to see me. I always say it's for business, but… I really do miss you." She paused for a moment before rising, as though unwilling to stray from him. Her fingertips lingered for a fraction of a second at his shoulder.

"I miss you too, Rosalina," were his last conscious words.

She glided away, gently closing the door behind her.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Toadette gazed around the gorgeous restaurant floor once more.

No Shy Guys to speak of. No one she recognized from her current event studies. In fact, she doubted many members of the clientele were even from the city, but rather visitors staying at the embassy she had seen across the street. Foreigners…like her. Like what she was now.

She heard the private room's door slide shut. Rosalina glided toward her, for lack of a more accurate description of her fluid movements. More of the robots—Gearmos? Gearmos—approached her with computer screens and notes and food. The blonde gently answered or rejected each, never offending.

"Where are we walking?" she asked once Rosalina was free of the Gearmos.

"I was considering helping out my sister at her bakery for a while," Rosalina answered as they stepped out into the dark afternoon. Elegant white and lavender spider lilies cascaded onto the pavement, their sweet scent combating the smell of gasoline and smog.

"Your sister?" Toadette processed the information at top speed. _Peach_?

"Yes…unless you have another place you wanted to go. Not that we have to go anywhere. These streets are nice for walking…people-watching…"

Toadette shook her head frantically. "No, I'd love to help! Her bakery's close to here?"

"Yes. Just down this next street. But I was wondering…" Rosalina gazed upon her carefully. "Have you met her? My sister Pauline? People usually call her Peach."

"I have, actually." She explained running into Peach at the mall, deliberately not mentioning this had been right before an illegal civilian race.

"She approached you when you were with Bowser?" They turned a corner.

"Yeah. They didn't talk much, though. It felt kinda…awkward."

Rosalina nodded. "They dated in high school, but Pauline... ended it only a few weeks before that one race."

Toadette inhaled sharply, taken aback. "Oh, _no_…that—but—"

"He knows it isn't her fault. No one knew that would happen, of course. But it does…further complicate things." A passerby immediately greeted Rosalina, who replied cordially. Toadette watched the exchange in awe, finally registering that she was taking a stroll with one of the most powerful people in the galaxy.

But, she wondered, what use was all that power when she could not even help the person she cared for most?

It was blatantly obvious now how much Bowser meant to Rosalina. Yes, protecting him during the oncoming tournament was one thing, but she could sense another, deeper level to the danger he was in.

With no surviving family—save for a monarch out to kill him—and only a small group of friends he could never confide in, how the _hell_ did Bowser manage to keep himself together? What with the weight of an entire government conspiracy on his shoulders, and now an impending death, or worse, the destruction of those he cared about most—_how_?

"_Racing_?" she wondered aloud.

"Sorry?" Rosalina had just bid the elderly shopper goodbye.

"Oh—nothing—just thinking—"

"Well, here we are," the blonde murmured. They halted in front of a narrow brownstone wedged between the two adjacent buildings, the façade just wide enough for a shiny red door and glowing shop window. The door in question was wide open, and the delicious scents emanating from within would have beckoned Toadette inside even if she had had no intention of entering in the first place.

The bakery was appropriately filled with customers. Not content with queuing up, they all leaned hungrily against the glass display cases filled with candies, pops, slices of cakes, whole pies, miniature tarts, mushrooms coated in various glazes, and dozens of other types of sweets Toadette had never even seen before. At least the crowd seemed patient.

Topping the gorgeous display was a four-tiered chocolate-frosted cake adorned with fat red strawberries and glittering white swirls of icing. _Peach's World-Famous Choco Cake_, a gilded plate read to one side. Aside from the opulent display case, the shop boasted only a few tables and a long shelf laden with bags of flour and candies. Behind the counter a wooden door stood slightly ajar. A high-pitched voice called to them from within.

"Rosalina! Thank goodness!"

"This way." Toadette followed Rosalina who briskly walked behind the counter and through the door into a high-ceilinged oven room. There stood Peach in a pink sundress and yellow apron, her hair tied back in a lacy handkerchief, unloading what looked like a tray of Apple Pies from one of many large ovens. "Right here. What needs attention first?"

"Need all hands on deck, Mario had to deliver the—oh!" Peach started upon noticing Toadette. "You were with Bowser…it's Toadette, right?"

"Mind if she jumps in?" Rosalina tied a heart-shaped white apron over her dress.

"Really? Thanks so much! You can store your purse on that shelf back there…one of those aprons should fit you…" Peach said no more, carrying a stack of pies through the door.

The ovens smelled amazing. After carefully laying her purse and bolero jacket on the shelf, Toadette washed her hands and grabbed a short pink apron from the hook, double-tying it around her waist to keep the ribbon from trailing onto the floor.

"You'll need these," Rosalina told her, proffering a pair of plastic gloves as she entered the sales floor. "Tell me whatever they're ordering so I can ring the sale up, then hand the food over on the other side of the case."

"Got it." Toadette grinned at the sight of the zombie-like customers. The sweets looked like works of art upon their gold-tinted trays and doilies. Peach definitely knew how to keep a shop.

"Miss?" an orange Pianta immediately in front of her pleaded. "Could I please have four of those Coco Pops to go? And one order of Potato Salad for here?"

"Two slices of Shroom Cake! To go!"

"Hi, I had an order for three Mousse Cakes—"

"Can I get a dozen Koopa Buns?"

"Je voudrais trois Tartopêches, s'il vous plaît!"

"How much for a Fruit Parfait, angel?"

After the first few customers the exchanges began to feel instinctive and mechanical, allowing Toadette to zone out and mull over everything she had learnt earlier that day. Yet in no time the crowd seemed to subside, likely because Peach now no longer had to manage the ovens, register and orders simultaneously.

When the dust settled, Toadette inhaled deeply. Peach collapsed into a fat armchair in the back room, kneading her temples.

"Can I get you anything?" Toadette asked, throwing her plastic gloves in the trash.

"No thank you, I'm good," she replied. "Oh, help yourself to some Fruity Cake, just finished slicing it before the crowds started piling in." She gestured to the counter, where a fruit-topped cake sat on a cooling rack next to a pink serving spatula.

Toadette pulled one slice out with the spatula. It had a central layer of apricot- and strawberry-studded meringue between two layers of chocolate sponge cake and tasted like happiness and sunshine.

"Did you make this?" she asked after wolfing the rest down. "It's amazing!"

Peach laughed. Pretty sound. "Thank you—ROZETTA GET _IN_ HERE!" she suddenly bellowed. "You've still got customers? Come eat!"

Rosalina popped her head through the doorway. "Let me finish ringing up this last one. Be right there."

And Peach was back up again, piping buttercream frosting onto another batch of pound cakes. She never seemed to rest for more than a moment.

"So, how do you know Bowser? I probably should have brought it up earlier, but…"

Toadette started. "Oh, uh…well, I'm Throwing for him for the All-Cup…"

Peach looked up from the cakes. "Really? What happened to Koopa? I could have sworn he was there for the Special Cup…"

"He's Driving for his girlfriend Paratroopa now," she replied. "Hey, need any help?"

"Oh, if you could stick one of those silk flowers into the top of each of those cupcakes for me, that would be perfect," Peach replied. "That cardboard box right there has more gloves. I hope you don't mind me asking, but are you still in high school?"

Toadette shook her head, pulling on the clear gloves. "No, I just graduated this past spring." Not a complete lie. "I guess now I should start looking for a job."

"Oh! Well, I could definitely use some more help around here. Rosalina—where is she? –is always so sweet to help out when she's in town but that's unfortunately not too often…" Peach picked up a different piping bag filled with pink icing and began embellishing the pound cakes. "What part of town do you live in?"

Uh oh. "Uh…kinda far west…Executive District."

Peach looked up. "You live with Bowser?" Not suspicious, just curious.

"For the time being. I don't think I want to mooch off of him for too long." Fair answer.

"Right. I know the feeling." She returned to decorating. "How…how's he doing? Just wondering."

What a question. Or, no, what a time to ask that question. "He…" Toadette chewed her tongue. "Not bad. He's getting excited for the tourney."

"Ha. Knowing him, he won't care how he places so long as he beats Boo Ridley."

So she knew about Boo. "How long have they been rivals?"

"I'd say…since high school, if not earlier. Boo was a junior when Bowser joined the karting team as a freshman but…well, you race with Bow. He overshadowed too many upperclassmen, but Boo was always set off the easiest. They gave each other a pretty rough time." Her voice became soft as she pulled up memories from years past. "Boo got Bowser into the street racing scene. I can't tell you how many nights I sat awake waiting for him to call me from the police station. And he did, once. Sophomore year. His parents would always pay bail but they were never in town so I ended up going to pick him up."

"He was arrested?" That was news to her.

"Twice. The second time was when he was a senior, after…" She grew silent, her focus switching to the pink flowers she needed to draw on the cakes. At least, so it seemed.

She heard the screech of car brakes outside—further behind the office, not from the front of the shop. Seconds later the door swung open and Toadette inhaled sharply as a mustachioed man walked in, one who bore a shockingly close resemblance to Luigi, if a bit shorter and stockier. He wore heavy-duty denim overalls over a red tee, white confectioner's gloves, and a red newsboy cap with the brim pulled backwards.

"Mario!" Peach set the piping bag down to wave hello. "Just in time! Did the Gourmet Guy approve of the French loaves?"

Mario nodded, pulling on a pair of baking mitts over his white gloves to check an oven filled with Shroom Cakes and trays of pops. The only indication he gave of noticing Toadette was a brief nod as he walked over to the sink to wash his hands.

So this was Mario. Toadette had expected an entire pantheon of possible appearances and personalities from the snippets she had heard from Bowser and the others, yet he did not seem to match any of them. She watched in awe as he removed two trays of bread at once from the ovens with a flourish, spinning them expertly before setting them on the cooling rack. He whistled as he did so, a tune she could not quite name but one that felt instantly familiar.

Rosalina finally walked through the door, tossing her gloves in the trash. "When are those Jelly Pops supposed to come out? And we have a customer waiting on a croquembouche he says he ordered a week ago."

"Oh! Ask Mario, he checked them about a minute ago. Croquembouche? I just put that together before you and Toadette arrived …" Peach stood up, stretched her back, and pulled a tall, thin box from the adjacent shelf. "Toadette, can you run out and tell him I'm grabbing it now? I just need to check that nothing fell off since I prepared it…"

"Sure thing!" Toadette retied her apron and stepped out onto the storefront.

The shop was now almost completely clear; two customers sat at a café table chowing on Fried Shrooms, and the third, clad in a pale gray suit and fedora, stood near the door.

"Hi… you ordered the croquembouche?" she asked quietly. The guy towered over her, easily as tall as Bowser and just as intimidating behind a pair of wraparound sunglasses. _It's always night here_, she thought irately. _Why wear those?_

"Yeah. There a problem?"

"Nope, Peach is just checking it one last time. She should be out soon."

"Aight. 'm on kinda a tight schedule."

"Sorry to keep you waiting. It's for a special occasion?" she asked, hoping to distract him from his cobalt Armani watch.

"Yah. Muh bro's weddin'. Three hours ta go."

"Oh, congratulations to your brother!" she replied as Peach backed into the room, delicately cradling the box.

"Thanks. You take credit?" he asked Peach, holding up a platinum card.

"Definitely. Take care when transporting that," she told him as she swiped his card. "Those pastries stick pretty well but it's not designed for bumpy roads."

"Gotcha. Thanks." He was gone.

"Who _was_ he?" Toadette asked, swallowing. "He said it was for his brother's wedding."

"Kingfin Bones," Rosalina replied as she walked through the door.

Toadette jumped a foot in the air. "_What_? Isn't that Dry B—?"

"His brother, yes."

Peach laughed as Toadette reeled. "So… who's getting married, then? Dark?"

"Yes, unfortunately. That was probably the invitation I turned down last month. He's been engaged to an FBR intern for about a year. Family arrangement."

"How _sweet_ of you, to turn down a _wed_ding to work with _meee_," Peach replied in a singsong voice. It sounded so much like a jeer that Toadette became suspicious.

"Slaving away in a bakery is definitely preferable to getting hit on all evening by Dry Bones," Rosalina muttered, her expression stormy.

Toadette could feel her eyes bugging out as she processed that statement. "_He…_ wants… _you?_"

"I try not to think about it too hard." She printed Kingfin's receipt and ripped it smartly from the cash register.

_Wait til Bowser heard that one_. She would see the redhead breathe fire yet. An instant later her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. _Speak of the devil_.

"Hey, where'd you and Rosalina go?" she heard after flipping the phone open.

"A bakery. Are you awake now? Do you want me to walk back?"

"Tell me which bakery. I'm getting in the car now so I can just pick you up."

"Peach's," she replied, sensing the gazes of the two sisters behind her.

He was silent for a moment. "I'll be there in one minute."

"'kay." She hung up and turned around. "I think I gotta go now."

"Oh, already? Well, thank you again for helping! Saturday afternoons are always pretty scary."

"Thank you for the cake!" She hugged Peach, then Rosalina, before pulling off her apron and grabbing her stuff from the back room. "I'll try to come back and help when I can. What's your number?"

Peach smiled and grabbed a business card from the counter. "Wonderful! Hey, let me give you some food for the road. Bowser hates sweets…here…" She stuffed a few calzones from the display case into a paper bag for Toadette, who promptly thanked her and skipped out of the bakery.

The Rolls sat idle one shop down, its driver obscured by the tinted windshield. Toadette hopped into the front seat, spotting Rosalina stepping halfway out from the shop. Bowser raised one arm to her in greeting before driving off.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine. You smell like cake."

"I bet I'm sweating cake at this point. Oh, and they gave y—I mean us— some calzones." She lifted up the bag.

Bowser's eyebrows rose. "Nice of her. How's she doing?"

"Peach? Fine. That bakery gets a lot of customers."

He steered them back onto the freeway. "Everything Peach bakes is good, but her cakes are legendary. That was actually why she started that bakery in the first place—people kept asking her to bake her Choco Cake, and they'd pay…" He drifted off in thought. "Was Mario there?"

"He joined after a while. Was out on a delivery when Rosalina and I walked in." _Rozetta_, Peach had called her in a fluster.

No response for a long time. She gazed out the window, wondering if she would ever get used to the constant night.

"Wanna practice some more?"

_Yusss. _"Definitely! Baby Park again?"

"Nah."

They snuck into his uncle's All-Cup course, a veritable fortress complete with a lava moat and spiral ramp, and practiced power-slides until Toadette could no longer keep her eyes open.

Bliss.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o


	11. Jugem Lakitu

Thanks AvaleeDarling, MessengerOfDreams, Not Waiting for Boredom, and carcinocatnip for your sweet reviews! They do help in motivating me to keep writing!

Sorry about the long wait. College finals are not for the faint of heart lol.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Eleven

_Krzzzzt. Krzzzt._

Bowser bolted awake. That particular buzztone meant it was the king calling.

"Hey."

"There's a limousine in the carport. Get in. Dress nice, you aren't the only company."

That meant formal wear. A chill ran down his spine. "Okay."

He pulled on a dress shirt and dark slacks over his boots before yanking a jacket from his closet. The motions were not unfamiliar; once, perhaps twice before he had received similar calls at this hour in the morning. He grabbed a tie from one of his dresser drawers at random and pulled it on as he strode down the hall, pausing for half a second at Toadette's door to check on her. Thankfully asleep. Hell, it was two in the morning. What…?

Sure enough, a sparkling white stretch Lincoln Town Car sat idle in front of the castle. Leaning back against a rear door was someone he had seen only a few times before in his life and whose name he consequently could not quite remember. Enormous—definitely had a couple inches on Bowser himself—and dressed in an extremely upscale designer suit and fedora, he nodded upon spotting Bowser and pulled the door open for him.

"Where are we headed?" he asked before stepping into the car.

"Party." He gently shut the door after Bowser slid in and somehow squeezed into the driver seat. "Help yourself to anythin' in that ice chest. Be 'bout thirty minutes."

Downtown, then. "The King's throwing a party?"

"Nuh realluh. My brother Dark just g' married this evening. Second reception."

Bowser nodded, feeling the darkness envelope him as the limousine's interior lighting dimmed. They sped onto the freeway.

He blinked exhaustion from his eyes, searching his mind for the giant man's name. Where had he seen—?

_Dark_. Why did that sound familiar? "What's the name of the bride? I'd like to know whose reception I'm crashing."

"Red. Now Red Bones."

Oh, god.

He knew.

Bowser leaned back in the seat, kneading his forehead. "Your other brother going to be there?"

"Yup," Kingfin Bones replied from the driver seat. "Him 'n Giga-Bowser. Don't worry about a drill or nuthin', they both prettuh sloshed."

That was nothing new. "And he doesn't think he can make it through the reception without me?"

"Yuh. You know, King orders somethin', we gotta deliver."

"Yeah. I know what you mean."

"Betcha do." He replied, his tone nearly pensive.

They flew down the motorway into the city. Brilliant lights flickered through the windows, illuminating the cool leather interior of the vehicle, the marble drink shelf and the dark wooden accents. In time they pulled into the porte-cochere entrance to the Tower.

Kingfin opened the door for him and tossed the limousine keys to the valet. Bowser followed him through the familiar neon-lit entrance and into a spacious elevator. Several partygoers joined them, their expressions ranging from ill to crazed to jubilant.

The Noki operator took them straight up to the top floor and bid them good evening before making his slow descent as they stepped into the Tower restaurant's grand entryway. Bowser had seen it far too many times before, yet this time its décor took him by surprise, its art-deco columns draped with white and gold garlands studded with garnet-colored fire flower designs, the tall golden archways nearly hidden under clumps of red and gold trappings.

The restaurant matched accordingly, though darker and busier. A huge dance floor filled the center of the room under dozens of neon lights and effect machines. Many circular tables bordered up against the wide windows. One, much larger than the others though mostly empty, stood currently to his left, although it would soon make its way to him as the Tower's 360 degree rotating mechanism continued to work. Much to his chagrin, Bowser recognized all three people seated at that table.

"Bowser! Get over here!"

King Saulus Giga-Bowser had called to him, his booming voice overpowering even the thumping speakers over the dance floor. Dressed to kill in a black and red suit complete with a good half-dozen monarchial medals that glinted in the dim lighting, he leapt up upon sighting his nephew and signaled to the four nearby Shy Guys to lead Bowser over. To his left sat Lakitu, who stood up as Bowser neared the table and greeted him cheerfully. To Lakitu's left was Dry Bones, typing away on a PDA in one hand and holding a crystal flute of what appeared to be Sky Juice in the other.

"Hey." Bowser gave the obligatory incline of the head to Giga-Bowser, keeping one eye on the exit. Dry Bones briefly looked up at him and grinned before returning his attention to the phone. Odd.

"Much more fitting!" his uncle laughed. "Kid, you're at one of the biggest parties this country is gonna boast this year, up next to the All-Cup galas. Chin up." Giga-Bowser jerked his gaze toward the dance floor, where amidst many dancers were unmistakably the bride and groom.

The groom could only be related to Dry Bones and his brother Kingfin. Though he shared the former brother's slim build and the latter's bronzed, leathery skin, his hair was a deep shade of black, nearly blue in the lighting. His tuxedo nearly rivaled the king's in quality and assumedly price, jet black and with violet accents. The only other dancer who could outshine his dashing figure was the bride's.

So this was Red Bones. She had presumably already changed out of her wedding gown, as her current dress was more of a typical haute couture clubbing affair, short and vivid purple to match her new husband's tie and cummerbund. Upon noticing the king's gesture, she grabbed Dark Bones' elbow and rushed up to the table.

Giga-Bowser lifted his glass as they approached. "_Skelécarlate_, you met Bowser yet? My nephew. Wanted to pop in to congratulate you two before he heads off for the All-Cup the day after tomorrow."

Wow. Nonetheless, Bowser made a dry attempt at a smile and shook hands with the couple. Red Bones scrutinized him through burning green irises. "Oh! Why, thank you for coming! Dark—I _knew_ we had left someone important off the invite list—why didn't you—?"

"Anything to drink?" the groom asked Bowser while clapping his uncle on the shoulder. "Unless Saulus here doesn't want his kid breaking federal laws…" The two chortled.

_His kid_.

This was not happening. Bowser gripped the chair in front of him to keep from swaying.

Red Bones rolled her eyes, brushing a short lock of fiery red hair behind her ear. "We got Herb T. to take a night off from his usual place for once," she whispered to Bowser conspiratorially. "Guess everybody has their price, and his was two grand! Help yourself, honey. I suppose we left you off the invite list since we knew your uncle here would drag you in regardless—"

"_Enough_ with the invite list," Dry Bones laughed lowly. "I don't see you regretting bringing in anyone who's already shown up."

"Oh, don't be bitter," Giga-Bowser moaned with sarcastic melodrama. "_That_ woman wouldn't know what to do with herself in a crowd like this. How many times am I to recommend you set your sights elsewhere?"

Dry Bones rolled his eyes, sipping again from the crystal flute. "I don't think I know what you're talking about."

The groom sniggered. "We know half the reason you've stuck around so long's because you're convinced she'll pop in any second. Red, you got any bridesmaids who'd give him a go?"

"Ha! No, I'm sure one of my coworkers is looking for someone his type," the bride giggled. "But I'm starting to lose hope on this one." She yanked Dry Bones' drink from his hand and downed it in one gulp, much to his apparent chagrin.

Bowser's head buzzed. Who was Dry Bones waiting for? Why was Lakitu not talking? Sure, neither was Kingfin, but from Bowser's experience the former was far more prone to this ridiculous gossip than the latter.

He turned to examine the ballroom. Many guests had noticed his arrival thanks to his uncle's racket minutes ago, their gazes a spectrum between curiosity and fear. Others carried on with their partying, and he largely preferred them to the stares.

"You need to smoke, kid?" Giga-Bowser signaled to a Shy Guy for another tray of Dayzee shots.

He did, actually. Bowser chewed his tongue and fished a carton from his pocket, stopping briefly to turn to Red Bones. "Should I step outside, or…?"

"Oh, no, go ahead! And do feel free to sit down, perhaps catch up with your uncle for a bit? Dark and I have to do this particular dance, tradition—" The bride squeezed his shoulder before rushing back to the dance floor with her husband.

Sighing inwardly, Bowser finally sunk into the chair he had been clutching for the past few minutes and pulled out a lighter.

"That custom?" Kingfin spoke for once, one eyebrow raised slightly in approval. Did he mean the lighter?

"This? Yeah." Koopa had given it to him for his eighteenth birthday after commissioning a craft student friend to design the exterior, gunmetal gray with a gleaming red leather grip. He spun it neatly in his hand. "You need a light?"

"Aight. Anybody want one?" Kingfin asked, pulling a box of Isle Delfino cigars from beneath the table, or so the label stated. Dry Bones shot him an exasperated look.

"I saw that," the king growled as a Shy Guy lit one for him. "And here I thought the kid'd be the biggest drag here. You need more alcohol or something?"

"Hmph."

"Oh, brutal! Dunno how to respond to that one." Giga-Bowser unleashed his guttural laugh that prickled Bowser's skin. "So, kid, excited for the All-Cup?"

Oh, Christ. Bowser feigned a confident smile. "Yeah. Feels like it's taken forever to get here."

"Bet you kids are itchy for some real action." His uncle exhaled a cloud of smoke high over his head. "Heard poor little Dry Bones over here was working pretty hard to win your lot over."

Bowser froze halfway through nodding in affirmative. Whoa. Hold the phone.

He watched Dry Bones look up from his smartphone and exchange glances with the king—his expression just shy of rage, while the king wore one of triumph.

God in—what?—wait.

Win…his lot…over?

Had Bowser misread this entire damn situation?

Was Dry Bones acting as a separate entity from the king—vying to take Bowser off his uncle's payroll and onto his own private one?

What did that even _mean_?

He shook his head, laughing under his breath. And Rosalina had gotten him all riled up for nothing. Or maybe vice versa. He had freaked her out for no reason. Lord.

And to think, if he had known earlier, he would have gone for it. Would have made the jump. Anything, to distance himself some way from the king. Hell, maybe Dry Bones could still take him up on this after all—

"Bowser," Lakitu suddenly spoke up, "would you care to chat for a bit with me outside? I need to walk off some of this food."

"He's always bitching about his calorie intake," the king laughed, motioning for Bowser to rise. "Poor Lakky. Go walk with him for a bit. Take your time."

Bemused, Bowser stood and nodded to the king again before following Lakitu upstairs onto the roof terrace. A hot breeze met them, not quite refreshing as it would have been some months before. Temperatures like these always signaled that the All-Cup was near.

"Sorry," Lakitu laughed as the door swung shut behind them. "I needed an excuse to get a break from them. Your uncle's had me working since ten this morning, and I'm supposed to go to _another_ party after this…"

"Yikes. You should probably load up on caffeine while you're here." No point in asking Lakitu if he could turn the king down, after all.

"Those cigars they've been passing around contain some type of stimulant. According to Kingfin, a few of them actually stayed up all last night to begin with." Lakitu kneaded his temples. "I keep telling him it's just going to hurt him in the end, but you know how it is."

"Yeah. He likes to learn everything the hard way." Bowser checked his phone. 2:43 a.m. He prayed Toadette had not woken up as he had left. No calls from her or anyone else in the past hour, so he figured all was safe.

"Now that I think about it, how have you been, Bowser?" Lakitu leaned over the terrace railing, gazing out over the city. "I understand your team has shifted quite a bit for the upcoming tourney."

Race talk. Bowser approved. "Yeah, we're up to five karts since Koopa and I split. I think this'll be Wally and Wario's last year, though."

Lakitu laughed through his nose. "Yes, I suppose they are further up on the age range than most of their competitors. It was a number of years ago that I first noticed them among the yearly participants. I've always wondered how you came by them, or vice versa."

"I met them at an…amateur race… when I was a junior in high school," he replied carefully. "I guess they liked how I played, so they made a gamble and sponsored me for my first All-Cup. I came in third that season, which is how the king got wind of me and told me he'd fund a team for me if I kept racing like that, and instead of building one from scratch he just let me and Koopa pair up with Wario and Waluigi. The other two karts joined a while after that."

"Small world, isn't it? If anything keeps these nations together, for better or worse, it's racing." Lakitu hummed happily to himself.

Racing, Bowser thought, and the business beneath it. He suppressed a growl.

It was racing that enabled his uncle to cheat wealth from the innocent, to usurp, to kill. Racing was his game, a completely different game from Bowser's, and yet very much the same.

It was racing that had kept Bowser going. He simply was not sure how much longer it would sustain him at this rate.

"After all," Lakitu continued, "if I recall correctly, you have a kart on your team that used to race for the Mario clan, no?"

"Uh, yeah. Luigi Mario and Daisy von Sarasa on the Bloom Coach."

"They're high up on the favored karts list. Perhaps once they get a little more experience under their belts, I could see them winning within a few seasons from now. I know they've placed at least twice since their first international cup."

"Yeah. Well-rounded," Bowser explained. "Usually people just see Luigi's fireballs as offensive and Daisy's Heart as defensive, but the reality is that both of them pull double-duty. The fireballs can actually function as a great defense since they have such a wide range, and Daisy can pick up stray Items on the path and add them to her own arsenal instead of crashing into them. Free weapons."

Lakitu whistled. "Astute of you to notice. But that is what sets you apart from most others, your Royal Highness. You always take every little detail into account when strategizing. Most admirable."

He shrugged, lighting another cigarette.

"What I find most interesting is that Mario and Pauline on the Red Fire kart for the Mario clan have the same exact Items, yet they do make consistently slower times than the Bloom Coach."

"Probably because they use their Items more traditionally. Mario usually just attacks and leaves himself open. Not very creative." How many times had Bowser taken advantage of the fact? Too many.

"Well, their team will certainly be one to reckon with now that Rosalina and Luma are participating this season," Lakitu replied, his tone more hushed than before. "To be honest, I truly hope more than anything that Rosalina manages to have some fun with these races. She is one of the hardest-working individuals I have ever known and could certainly use a break."

A jolt ran through Bowser's spine. Rosalina having fun? He could count the times he had seen her content, let alone happy, on one hand. Fun was definitely in order, but getting Rosalina to relax would take a hell of a lot more than confiscating her PDA.

"She actually had to decline the invitation to this wedding even though she's in this very city right now," Lakitu confided. "Getting the team in gear for the caravan Monday night, perhaps."

"How long ago did she decide to participate?" Bowser asked. Didn't wedding invites normally get sent out a month beforehand?

"Back in April," he replied, "Though we waited to post her on the roster until two nights ago. Thanks to her performance in the winter All-Cup three years ago, she had a prelim-free entry opportunity saved up. I guess she simply thought now would be the best season to use it up. Once she gets her Master's this winter I sincerely doubt she'll have enough free time to attend any wedding at all, much less a two-week racing competition."

April? _Then why wait so long to tell me_? Bowser chewed his tongue in frustration.

Hold the phone.

"Lakitu?" he began to ask, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer. "Is…was the person everyone kept making fun of Dry Bones for…the…the one he was waiting for, to come to this wedding…was it…?"

"Rosalina, yes," Lakitu laughed, squeezing his old eyes shut behind his characteristic horn-rimmed glasses. "Rumor has it that the two have had a sort of back-and-forth for some time, if you catch my drift."

Bowser gripped the railing to steady himself. _No_. _Stop it. Cut it out_.

"Of course, one hears all sorts of things when you have to keep an eye on such a huge industry, but I do suppose they would make a nice couple," he continued, to Bowser's inexplicable indignation. "Can't think of anyone I know actually taller than her! How about that! Haha. And they're certainly a match for wits. Both went to Subcon, you know, though Dry Bones a few years before." _Obviously. He's gotta be nearly thirty at the earliest. _What was Bowser thinking? None of his business—right?

Suddenly Lakitu's voice became soft. "That would be quite the match. Just like this wedding here. Highly symbolic, and a huge turning point…"

Somehow Bowser managed to find his voice. "Turning point?"

Lakitu wiggled his eyebrows. "Surely you've understood by now why this wedding is such a huge deal for your uncle! Dark Bones has always been his right-hand man when they were playing politics for the Mushroom Kingdom all these years. This is the end of Dark's second term on the council—beginning of his third—and by the looks of his votes it certain won't be his last. It should be no coincidence, then, that such an influential figure is marrying this particular up-and-coming intern for the FBR. Red is scheduled to begin directly assisting Dry Bones with his research less than a month from today."

_Holy…_ Bowser's heart raced. This…this was a lot.

With Dark Bones a favored Council member, Kingfin head of the Mushroom Kingdom's private army (Bowser had learned ages ago from Rosalina), and Dry Bones and Red Bones controlling the future of the Mushroom Kingdom's largest and wealthiest industry, King Giga-Bowser held a veritable money machine in the palm of his scheming hand. Bowser's skin prickled at the very realization of what kind of force Rosalina was up against.

Up against? Or—about to join—?

_No_. _Stop it._ There was simply no way this could be true. He could not afford for the idea to manifest. Bowser ground the dead cigarette into the railing and lit another. _It can't be_.

But who knew the truth? Lakitu was up in the air. Obviously asking Rosalina herself was out of the question. Peach would know, but Bowser could never talk to her. This… he did not like this. Not good. Not good at all.

"Well, back into the fray," Lakitu whistled after some time. "You might as well enjoy yourself while you're here, don't you think, Bowser? Live a little. I do believe a good number of Red's bridesmaids are looking for a strapping young dancing partner right about now!" He strode back into the restaurant, laughing softly as he went.

Bowser leaned over the railing, the cigarette falling from his fingers as his arms went limp. The dark sky above him never seemed more ominous than it did now.

Not good at all.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"Thank god! I thought you'd never come home!"

Bowser trudged into the stuffy parlor, tearing off his tie and jacket as he went. "What time is it?"

"Seven-fifteen. I was afraid to call, in case…"

In case Dry Bones sought to reclaim her, he realized with a jolt. Not that a text would have been the only thing to give her away; Bowser had idiotically saved her number in his phone. Realizing he had memorized it by that point, he immediately pulled out his cell and deleted her profile from his contacts. He'd have to tell the others to do the same as soon as possible.

"Yeah. Sorry, I didn't want to wake you…I didn't think I'd be out that long, anyways…"

Her gaze softened. "Hey, don't apologize. It's not…not my business where you go…" She glanced away. "I'm just glad you're back in one piece."

"Me too," he breathed.

"But… where were you? Just curious." She sunk into a fat red armchair across from his.

"Once in a blue moon the king likes to show me off at some event he's at," Bowser explained. "Usually after he's downed a couple. This one was a wedding…if I'd known about it beforehand, I'd probably have expected this to happen anyways." Like a trophy. He shuddered inwardly.

Toadette grimaced. Bowser laughed, relieved to have someone on the same page as him for once. She could imagine how he would have felt. Her reaction actually meant something.

"Did…did you drink anything?" she finally asked. He shook his head, laughing.

"Can't afford to at the moment. I was hoping to get some more time in today. That sound good?"

"Seriously? You're not going to sleep first?"

"Hell no. Too much steam to work off."

"Fine. But I'm driving us back if you pass out. Go put on something more comfortable." She bolted up and stomped into the open-air hallway toward her room. "And get some food!"

Oof. If only the rest of his team could pull together an act like that on such short notice. As he headed to his room, he idly wondered how much it would cost to forge a solid gold "Bro" pin to put on Toadette's frilly bolero sweater. Gwahaha.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"You ready?" he asked, bearing his teeth in what he hoped was one terrifying smile. He saw Toadette stick out her tongue at him in the rearview mirror.

"More than you. Come on already."

"Aight." He pressed the race counter app on his phone then pocketed it, listening for the telltale chimes.

_Ding._ Three. On either side of them, the traffic of downtown Mushroom City felt weighty and overbearing, like two opposing currents of water on either side of them, pushing their kart down to the bottom of the metaphorical riverbed. The deep blue sky overhead, tinged with green and gray thanks to the smog, certainly matched the whole river image.

_Ding_. Two. No safety nets or crash inhibitors on this course. Outside race regulations, his and Toadette's safety would depend entirely on their maneuvering skills…and the temperaments of the rush-hour drivers all around them. Bowser did prefer his training to be tougher than the actual tests, but one never knew…

_Ding_. One. Whatever it took to increase his game. He wanted to win, and to prove he would win without rigging. The money didn't matter. When you play well, the money comes to you. Story of his life, or at least the part he had been responsible for.

_DING._

He tattooed his foot into the gas pedal right as Toadette pushed off, and suddenly the space surrounding them blazed into a beautiful sky-blue color—ambient light from the flames bursting from his twin tailpipes, flames of the long-coveted Double Dash. They boosted into the fray at a good three times the typical starting speed.

"YES! Awesome!" he bellowed as Toadette whooped behind him. If anything could put him in the zone, that could. Surrounding vehicles ten times the size of his kart seemed to float past, slaves to his fingertips as he steered the Koopa King with the lightest of motions.

They switched at the hairpin curve, with Toadette steering them into the F10 underpass, horns blaring at them from all directions and hollers from occasional passersby. He might at one point have picked up a vuvuzela from the surrounding din. Adorable.

It was on their third lap, nearing the set finish point, that catastrophe struck.

"Watch out! Wiggler to the left! Incoming!"

Bowser had paid simply too much attention to the cool feeling of the city air as it rushed past them during the traffic-free zone. He had broken a cardinal rule.

Never close your eyes.

He should have known better. This was something basic, something beginning drivers—much less Kart racers—picked up on instinct. This was unforgiveable for someone of Bowser's stature and experience level.

They crashed pell-mell into the side of a blue sedan, Bowser having swerved just quickly enough to avoid hitting the enormous Wiggler Bus head on. Crashing was one thing, but the sudden lack of balance in his steering was far more terrifying.

He glanced behind just in time to watch Toadette fly off the thrower's pedestal, her form limp from the shock of the collision, and over the guardrail-less highway side toward the busy underpass lane some thirty feet below.

_No—NO!_

But before he had even time to scream, something even stranger occurred.

A pulsating blue star sprang to existence out of thin air, just below Toadette as she plummeted toward the ground. Without uttering a sound, she appeared to grasp the star's unearthly blue light as she passed it in midair.

Bowser leapt from the kart, instinctively cutting the engine so it would roll harmlessly to the side of the road away from oncoming vehicles. In the milliseconds that this took place, he kept an eye on Toadette, his heartbeat completely stagnant in terror.

Somehow, the blue light she held onto was not only solid, but stretchy, and she was yanked from her momentum, no longer falling. Instead, it appeared to slingshot her back into the air, up over the lip of the freeway. Clearly in shock, she let go; Bowser neatly plucked her from the air and stumbled back toward the kart, his heart racing after having stopped for so long.

_Holy hell_.

"Wh—what..I…" Her lower lip trembled, unable to produce another sound. Bowser swallowed, unsure of where to begin.

She had been saved. He held onto her, his arms as rigid as his muscles would allow. Saved.

By what?

He continued to hold Toadette close and glanced down to where she had fallen, but the blue star was gone. No trace. Disappeared.

"I…I dunno…" He cleared his head. "Let's get out of here."

"Y-yeah."

"You okay? Toadette, I'm so sorry, I'm so—sorry—I—" Bile formed in his throat, from the shame of breaking the simplest of rules, from nearly killing someone so important to him by sheer irresponsibility—from scaring Toadette, something he had so carefully struggled to avoid, this whole time, now out the window—

"Bow—Bow, it's okay—it's okay, I'm fine, let's just…get out—yeah—c'mon, just…just…"

"I…I fucked that up," he confirmed aloud, now carefully scanning the traffic around them before hitting the gas again. His buzz was crashing into pieces around his neck; he could begin to feel the effects of having stayed up for over twenty-four hours, and they were not pleasant. "Yeah…let's get out of here."

"Yeah." He gently returned her to solid ground and they finished the time trial.

They returned to the underground garage where they had left the Ford Super-Duty and she helped him load the Koopa King into the pickup bed. If the blue sedan driver had felt anything about being hit by an illegally-placed kart, he or she had not stuck around to pick a bone with Bowser. Come to think of it, he could not even recall the car stopping at all. Of course, he had been too fixated on Toadette's impending death and beautiful, miraculous propulsion back to safety to take in minute details such as the vehicle he'd hit. A part of him wondered whether this had actually happened or whether he was simply hallucinating from lack of sleep.

They had made it all the way back into Exec District before Toadette was able to speak.

"Hey…Bow…"

"Hn?"

"Don't…don't feel bad about it…" She chewed her tongue. "Everyone makes mistakes, you know?"

He remained focused on the road. Not a car in sight, but obviously that meant little what with the situation earlier.

"Hear me?"

"Yeah…yeah…"

"You know what that was at all? That star?"

He shook his head. "No…not at all…you?"

She mirrored his gesture. "Never. But…I just…I just knew, to—to grab it—I don't…"

"Yeah." They pulled into the castle's underground garage.

"Hey…get some sleep…I'm going to start washing my clothes for the trip…"

It was barely ten in the morning, he realized. Jesus.

"Yeah. Good plan."

Bowser pulled off his spikes and shirt before collapsing onto his futon. A sharp pain sprung up below his hip; he cursed inwardly at having forgotten to remove his phone from his jeans pocket beforehand.

Just when he was about to pitch it against the stone wall in frustration, he froze, holding the cell high over his head.

A single text alert icon had appeared on the exterior screen.

Everything be damned, he slid the phone open and examined the message. Not from anyone in his contacts. He didn't recognize the area code either, which ruled out Mushroom City, Mushroom Bridge, and most of Sarasaland. Ruled out everyone in his gang, Peach and Rosalina, Kamek and Kamella, Dry Bones and his uncle and the rest of the FBR offices. Christ.

_If anyone deserves a second chance_, the message read, _it's you_.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

So happy to have finally finished this! I won't have internet access for a while (read: the rest of June) so I feel rather relieved about having finished it in time haha. Please review and tell me if you have any questions!

XOXO L.L.


	12. Ante Up

A/N: Thanks to AvaleeDarling, Princess Toady, MessengerofDreams, Rue La and Vivalahomestar for your reviews!

Sorry this took so damn long, but to atone I went ahead and covered more of the story than I thought I would. Gotta tread carefully from here on out, haha. Right when I finished this last night my internet croaked or you would have totally been able to read this twelve hours ago! Nuts.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Twelve

Rosalina's skin prickled; footsteps, she realized. Someone was walking toward her, and briskly. She could guess who.

Her least favorite person on the planet paused jauntily under the balcony's arched entry, briefly inspecting his surroundings. He gave a soft laugh upon spotting her. "Plane's leaving in an hour!"

"I know." She continued with her attempt to stargaze, not budging from her position on the lounge chair.

Dry Bones heaved a melodramatic sigh. "Just thought I'd help! Wouldn't want you to be late for your first race in two years."

Rosalina said nothing. This place had too much artificial lighting; the stars were nearly invisible. She hated this, the choking hold of the smog, the separation from her beloved sky. Why, of all places, must this city be the one tied so inextricably with her destiny? Surely any other would have sufficed. She felt suffocated, without her stars to guide her.

"Mercy. You pull a tougher ice-queen act than Kingfin." Dry Bones plopped onto one of the wicker lounge chairs next to hers. "Since these shenanigans are about to screw up my schedule—royally—in the next few weeks, I might as well tell you now."

Rosalina sighed inwardly. "Tell me what?"

"That I'm no fool. The others, perhaps, but not me. For all your bad press against the King, you two sure talk a lot off the record. Frequently, I might add. And you're not the type for street banter."

"Your point?"

Dry Bones laughed before quickly hushing his tone. "If you want to take a guy down from the inside," he all but whispered, "you're going to have to work harder than that. For every blow you land on him, the four of us will strike back, and harder. We have to."

"My goal has nothing to do with crippling the king," Rosalina responded coolly. "I would suggest reading the conversations you claim to have found before confronting me in this manner."

"O contraire. I know what you're doing, Rosalina…and I want to help." His voice abruptly dipped into such a low, straightforward timbre—so different from his usual high-pitched gossiping drawl—that Rosalina nearly risked making eye contact with him to confirm she was still speaking with the same person.

"Right."

"You think I'm lying about this? Rosalina, please. You're not going to remove him from office without help from someone who's _really_ on the inside. For god's sake, consider your position."

"Excuse me?"

"The king has his ghosts—all regents do—but the majority of his protestors are merely moaning about issues even your family could not solve cleanly. You have no weapons to use against him. The rest of the galaxy will view this simply as an angry ex-princess who sought to illegally reclaim a throne—one that would have been hers had fate only worked differently. Some things are simply out of your control, and you're a fool for trying to change that."

"Like the millions of taxpayers' coins going into a department with nothing to show for it? Undocumented test subjects popping out of your desert labs showing clear symptoms of unapproved medical experimentation? You can't expect to hide your garbage forever."

"Complain all you want; I'm simply asking you to deliberate further. For your sake. He's simply too strongly embedded in this new system. And just offing him isn't going to cut it at this point. You know he has an heir?"

Rosalina rolled her eyes. _Here we go._ "I don't… recall him declaring anything."

"His brother had a kid. Not too much younger than you, actually. We're in the process of getting him into a protected position now so he's prepped for when the time comes. In the off chance you land something on the current king, there's still no way you can take down the next one. You're fighting an uphill battle."

"Then why are you so bent on helping me?"

"You know how much you mean to me, Rosalina," he replied, his voice suddenly frigid. With a jolt she realized he was right behind her, his words softer than air. "If I could make this work—help you through this mess—"

She stood up and abruptly turned around. "You have _helped_ me enough. See you in a few hours."

Before she could make it to the door, his fingertips caught her shoulder—not firm, just…there. Unsettling.

"Be careful. Please. I can't guard you as carefully during these races. You know why."

"Take care of your own business first, Karon," she replied before heading back into the interior corridor. "You've fallen one too many steps behind in this game."

Overall her response pattern had bordered on the immature, but his facial expression after that last comment made everything absolutely worth it.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"Whoooo!"

Toadette rolled all four of the truck windows down and stuck her head out to shout, waving madly toward the crowds on the sidewalks. They gestured back en masse, with only titanium police barriers preventing them from spilling onto the busy streets.

"Sounds like Toadette's the caravanning type," Koopa's voice buzzed from Bowser's cell on speakerphone.

"You're telling me. Hey, I think she just caught a bouquet." Bowser chuckled and pulled out a carton. Discovering that custom lighter Koopa had given him inside that suit jacket two nights before had almost made that whole episode a worthwhile experience. _Almost._

"This is awesome! I can't tell you how many times I watched the parade on television…" Toadette slipped back into her seat and sniffed the pink carnations she had caught. "Being in it's completely different, though."

Bowser nodded, adjusting his cruise control as Baby slowed ahead of them. He and Toad had hitched a small trailer bed to the back of Baby's orange Challenger, just large enough to hold their bullet-shaped lightweight Kart.

He too had loved watching the caravan as a child. A few times his parents had even brought him along. He vaguely remembered sitting in the back of his dad's truck with his mom next to the kart, waving at his parents' fans and catching presents from those who could make it past the police barricades.

Luckily, Mushroom City was only a three-hour ride from Mushroom Bridge, their destination; he knew this parade had started early this morning at the southernmost point of the Kong Mountains. Other tributary caravans had formed in the desert city Toad Town and in Sarasaland, only to merge at Mushroom City for one of the increasingly largest parades in history.

"Incoming call." Bowser switched from Koopa to Daisy. "What's up?"

"They're starting the live TV coverage," she replied. "Luigi's got the running commentary on his PDA if you wanna listen."

"You know I don't care about the talking heads," Bowser grumbled.

"Well, what about Toadette?"

"No thanks," Toadette piped. "I see the same announcers every year. Hey, Bow, they're holding up signs for our team!"

"Ha. Love those guys." He had to smile at that sight, a good dozen or so Mushroom Bridge residents decked out in leather and spikes. _STOMP THOSE FOOLS_, their gleaming posters read. Classy as hell.

"We should probably start slowing down now," Luigi's voice buzzed. "Two exits to go. Damn, they got out the fireworks and everything…"

As he spoke, enormous green and orange fireworks erupted against the shimmering background of the night sky, reflecting over the lake for double the pizzazz. Toadette clapped her hands at the show. "Oh, I just remembered! Did you see Rosalina at all when we all congregated back in Mushroom City?"

"Don't recall," he replied. He had searched, of course, but to no avail, having spent most of the All-Cup caravan to Mushroom Bridge trying to ignore the buzzing feeling in his stomach. Not the usual pre-tourney excitement; this one was anxiety. Apprehension.

"Well, we'll see her soon enough," Toadette breathed. "What's her kart like?"

"You'll see it when they announce the last-minute entries before the banquet tonight," he replied. "They always have teams reorganizing at the last second, so the FBR makes sure all the racers are aware of the final roster by displaying those entries' karts."

"Whoa, seriously?"

"Yeah. Tonight we can go over the different racers just so you can start to get a feel for our competition. Aside from Rosalina, I'm pretty sure we need to be most worried about Boo and Petey, and Yoshi and Birdo. We can check this season's records for anyone from the other nations who look like they might pose a threat."

"Good idea. I've raced against large numbers of karts before but after five or six years we all had each other's methods pretty much memorized…" Toadette drifted off in thought.

"Here we go." Bowser followed Baby down the exit ramp onto Mushroom Bridge's main speedway. What was to be the first of many hotels loomed ahead, stunningly lit up against the night sky.

"Racers to the ballroom," the Shy Guy valets called softly as the parade halted in front of a grand entrance. Bowser and Toadette hopped out of the truck.

"This is crazy," she breathed, clutching his hand as they strode down the long purple carpet into the ballroom foyer. Fans and photographers and reporters from what had to be all over the globe crowded around more of the police barriers.

"Welcome! Welcome, race participants! Help yourself to refreshments after your long journeys!" Lakitu, ever in his best form, bustled about the vicinity, greeting and laughing and scolding where he deigned. "Bowser! And hello, Miss Toadette! Excited? Of course you are. Bowser, we have specific seats reserved for you two up at the front…"

"What? How come? I sit with my team."

"Oh, you'll find out! I'm just happy someone convinced you to wear a dress shirt for this evening in lieu of your usual wifebeater—" Lakitu wiggled his eyebrows at Toadette. "Yes, yes, this should be perfect. And don't worry," he added, likely upon seeing Bowser's expression, "you're still scheduled to be with your team for the dinner after the opening ceremony! I custom-ordered that table for you myself seeing as your numbers have grown so! Now, off with you!"

And he was gone, his small stature gulped up by the ever-increasing crowds.

"How come we're up front?" Toadette asked, accepting a shrimp hors d'oeuvre from a passing waiter.

"Hell if I know. Hey, you two," Bowser called upon spotting Wario and Waluigi. "If you see the others, tell them that Lakitu is holding me and Toadette up near the stage for some reason. I'll be back with you guys for the dinner."

"What? Why?"

"Wish I knew. Pass the message along."

"Okay…"

"What time does the opening ceremony start?"

"I'd give them another thirty minutes to seat everyone." Bowser looked around for an exit, a balcony, anywhere he could smoke. No go. Damn.

"You okay?"

"Dunno. This is just really weird. I hope they don't pull too big of a stunt in front of all these people."

"I don't think Rosalina would let them snipe you," Toadette murmured. "Maybe this food's poisoned!" She had pointedly not yet bitten into the appetizer.

"Oh yeah, kill all the racers. Great plan. We wouldn't know what'd hit us."

"Just saying…"

"I know…still, fine line between caution and paranoia, right?" They walked through a high domed arch into the dazzling ballroom, decked in the flags of every nation of the participating racers. Bowser spotted a Piranha Plant colony flag near the stage.

Toadette followed his gaze. "Wonder if Petey's here yet," she murmured.

"You wanna go find him? I'm willing to put up with Boo being around if you wanna talk to your friend."

"Really? I thought you hated them both."

"Ha. There's no way I could really hate Petey. Mostly just 'cause he's with Boo. Hell, I didn't know he existed until two years ago."

"Who was Boo's partner before Petey joined him?"

"His girlfriend Bow. Her dad's actually Baron Brr, who funds their team. I don't think she actually liked racing that much…mostly did it so Boo could participate in the tourneys around town. Either way she was fine with Boo getting a new partner so he could try for the All-Cup."

"Is she kinda pale and curvy? Light sage hair?"

"Uh, yeah, actually. You know her?"

Toadette pointed over his shoulder. "No, but I think they're over there."

"Oh." Sure enough, most of Team Banshee stood only a few yards away. Boo, Bow, Baron Brr, and the Kong and his girlfriend (Bowser couldn't quite remember her name—Trixie or Dipsy or something), and his nephew Diddy appeared to be engaged in light conversation. No sign of Petey.

"I…I'm gonna go look for Petey, then." Toadette began gazing around the crowds, though not likely with any success what with her height (or lack thereof.)

"Speech is starting in a few minutes," Bowser called as she disappeared into the crowd.

"Then go sit down yourself," a cool voice called from behind. Bowser whipped around to find Birdo, immaculate in a stunning short black dress and candy red spectator pumps, next to Yoshi, clad in his characteristic backless vest and dark jeans. For once he looked relatively cheerful; Birdo could have passed for a zombie. Usually it was the opposite.

Yoshi handed him a flute of champagne matching his own. "Ignore her. She drove the whole caravan back from when it started down in Toad Town. Ten coins says she passes out during dinner—"

"Fuck y—"

"Toad T—the whole seven hours? You never took over for her?" Bowser shook his head in disapproval, struggling not to laugh.

"She wouldn't let me," he chortled.

"You weren't sober this morning! No way I could've let you drive."

"Hey, I sobered up by two, that's hardly the—"

"Maybe if we hadn't been in the middle of the fucking _caravan_ it could have worked but you were _not_ fit to do anything til after we made it out of the damn desert." She yanked the flute from her boyfriend's hand and pointedly handed it, half-empty, to a passing waiter.

"By the time we made it to Mushroom City you were probably worse off than I was at eleven this morning," he laughed.

"I can't believe you pregamed the caravan," Bowser breathed, smiling at the racer's complete gall. Yoshi chuckled, shrugging.

"I'll sleep like the dead after this damn ceremony," Birdo conceded, turning to Bowser. "Then tomorrow you will suffer my wrath."

"You're on. Catch you later." He nodded to Yoshi before making his way toward the front of the ballroom.

Those two. Lord.

When he reached the third row from the back he began to look around. Maybe the shoo-ins for the top eight had been asked to step up—no, wait, Yoshi and Birdo had taken spots way to the back near the doors. Then what?

"Hey there."

Someone in the front row had gotten up and turned to him. Bowser realized with a jolt it was Dark Bones.

"Hi. Just talked to Lakitu."

"Good guy, Lakitu. Over here." He clapped the backrest of the chair next to his own, which Bowser interpreted as an invitation. _Front row?_

Wait. Then that meant—

A voice boomed overhead. "Ladies and gentlemen, racers and patrons, reporters and guests, please take your seats for the official opening ceremony for this year's summer All-Cup!"

The cocktail crowds roared and descended upon the seats, plunging into the rows as live news cameras and reporters moved into position.

Bowser glanced around one more time for Toadette before taking the seat Dark Bones had chosen for him. "Can I ask what this is about? I usually stay with my team."

"Understandable. Sorry for all that, but we figured we could combine this particular announcement with the ceremony to really blow up the presses. They won't see it coming, which is why you aren't suffocating right now."

"See what coming?" As hard as he could try to not panic, this…this…

"Don't worry about it. Just keep a straight face when they call you up. Pretend everyone in the audience is dead—that always worked for me."

Unsettling advice, for multiple reasons. "I'm going up there? Why?"

"You don't have to do anything except stand. Try not to talk. We're lucky you're more photogenic than the old man. When in doubt just say you're honored and thankful. Whatever you do, don't look confused. That'll kill everything. Play it cool."

"What—"

Toadette hopped onto the seat next to his. "Couldn't find him anywhere. Good thing you're so tall, I could see the top of your head from the…from the back…" She trailed off as three figures walked onto the stage, their viewers one booming thundercloud of applause and lightning bolt of camera flashes. "That's your…your uncle, right?"

"Yeah." Bowser licked his lips, kneading his hands together. Toadette gently laid one lacy-sleeved hand over his. "Thanks."

His Majesty Saulus Giga-Bowser stepped up to the resplendent cherry wood podium draped with the Mushroom Kingdom's colors, orange and green checks with the Kerog family insignia Toadette had surely noticed everywhere in the castle by now. He wore the same royal decorations Bowser had noticed at the wedding two nights before, but had added the imposing spiked shoulder guards and the three forehead garnets that constituted the royal crown. Once the roar of the spectators finally died down, he spoke.

"Welcome, racers," he boomed, "to the one-hundred-twenty-eighth semiannual All-Cup Tourney!"

Applause again. Normally even Bowser would give a whistle or two, but not now. Not with these people right next to him. No way in hell. Poor Toadette, robbed of what should be the most joyous moment of her life—the beginning of her first All-Cup—due to his blatant anxiety. He took a deep breath and clapped half-heartedly, for her sake.

"Welcome to the showcase for the deeply-honed skill and talent of the finest racers on the planet—the stage upon which these brilliant athletes perform that which is their greatest passion, and greatest thrill." Was it Bowser's imagination, or was his uncle staring specifically straight at him? Impossible. Surely everyone else in the ballroom had the same exact feeling.

"Welcome to the cornerstone of our fair kingdom's economy, a direct and indirect source of thousands of jobs and occupations. People work year-round to make events and contests such as this possible, and without the support of each and every worker we would not have the spectacle we have come to expect each year. Please, a round of applause to the unnamed heroes behind the monstrous undertaking that is the All-Cup." Huge applause here. Bowser deigned to whistle, raising Yoshi's champagne glass to the ceiling.

"Nice." Dark Bones grinned in approval, raising his own.

"Welcome, everyone, to a three-week-long marathon that will try and test each and every participant to their highest capacities. Just as making it to this tournament is no mean task, this competition itself never is, and never has been, for the faint of heart. As many of you know, two of my beloved family members were lost in this brutal contest. A moment of silence, please, for all past fatalities that have occurred in these harrowing trials."

Bowser clenched his jaw shut. In the past Koopa and Daisy and whoever sat within a five foot radius of him had made a point of physically contacting him in some way or other at this point in the speech, whether for solidarity or comfort or a combination of the two or neither. Sure enough, Toadette's tiny hand found his once again, and Dark Bones clasped his right shoulder ever so briefly. Before he could shrug it off, a third, softer hand grasped his left shoulder from behind; he knew without having to turn around that it belonged to Rosalina. He placed his free hand over hers, feeling his stomach melt into magma. Never had this ballroom felt so silent in all the years he had attended this same ceremony.

After an eternity the king began to speak again.

"Welcome to one of our world's most time-honored traditions," he continued, his deep golden eyes flashing as though having made contact with those of the entire audience in a single sweep.

"Words cannot convey how much the iconic All-Cup tournament means to each and every person watching this evening and the next several evenings to come. I have heard countless tales of heated family rituals based around live coverage of the games, of friends who splurge all they own to make the trek to every possible race to watch them take place live, of racers past who grew up watching their world change and evolve as marked by the scores and times of this tournament."

Images of Bowser's early high school years flashed before his eyes. In the few years he couldn't follow his parents to their own races, he never stayed put in their own tiny apartment but instead would camp out at Koopa's house for the three weeks, watching and screaming and cheering and growling over upsets and time-based scoring blocks and whatever new Items the FBR had produced for that year. Everything from the racers' ride modifications and uniforms to the techniques employed by the drivers or throwers when in swapped positions went under the two boys' scrutiny, and often that of Koopa's parents as they cheered along with the boys. Often his school would delay the beginning of spring term in the event the tourney had to end on a later date. Nothing would get in the way of those days for him. His years were marked by the All-Cup, defined by each and every race that reached his eyes and ears. For better and for worse.

"It is then my pleasure," the king continued, "to welcome FBR Chairman, four-time All-Cup winner, and great friend Jugem Lakitu to kick this off for everyone. Thank you. Lakky!"

Lakitu, sitting two seats down from Toadette, hopped up and took the steps two at a time to the stage before clasping hands with Giga-Bowser. The audience roared yet again while a Shy Guy attendant adjusted the microphone to accommodate the older man's smaller stature.

"Quite the welcome, your Majesty!" Lakitu waited patiently for the cheers to die as two more attendants brought the ceremonial All-Cup starter light to the stage. Cast in a sleek matte dark metal, the iconic case bore three light bulbs in a horizontal row, unlit though sparkling with the dazzling reflections of dozens of camera flashes of the inescapable media from the back. The Shy Guys gingerly handed the jaunty fixture to Lakitu, who held it high above his head as the spectators collectively leapt to their feet.

"Everyone ready?"

The crowd roared in affirmation. Bowser made a point of being the loudest in his row. The lights dimmed and the ballroom faded to pitch black save for the spotlight on Lakitu and the traffic light he held in his right hand.

"Count down with me!" Lakitu shouted. An invisible symphony struck up from somewhere behind the curtain, cueing the first of the three lights: the rightmost, a gleaming red. "Three!"

Bowser squeezed Toadette's hand, knowing without a doubt that every other kart team were doing the same in their own way. He knew without seeing that Luigi would wrap his arms around Daisy, that Toad and Baby would link arms and squeeze together, that Wario and Waluigi would nod at each other in that uncannily chill way of theirs, that Yoshi and Birdo were probably doing something unscrupulous with each other's tongues, that DK was ruffling his nephew's fuzzy head.

"Two!"

The center light flew on. Red, again, for caution. Don't hit that pedal _just_ yet. No false starts, or you'd begin the race in a spin. Unprofessional, and damaging.

For a millisecond the entire ballroom was completely silent. Only because of his own pounding heartbeat was Bowser even remotely sure he was truly alive and conscious. The pulse in Toadette's seafoam-manicured fingers matched his. Two were one.

"One!"

The leftmost light flew on, briefly red like the others, but an instant later all three lights became a dazzling emerald hue, to the screams and foot-stomping and flashbulbs of hundreds of spectators and surely thousands more across the world. The lights overhead flew on, making dazzling reflections in the uncountable numbers of long metallic streamers as they erupted from between the high dark windows.

"The All-Cup Tournament is officially underway!" Lakitu cried, letting the two attendants place the starter light on the podium before him. "Just a few notes of importance before we begin our first dinner as one happy competitive family. I happily invite Doctor Dry Bones, President of the Mushroom Kingdom's Federal Bureau of Racing, to send you all off!"

Dry Bones did not immediately rush to the stage as Lakitu had, but appeared to be in the middle of a furiously whispered discussion with Red Bones at the other end of the row. As the onlookers slowly contained their noise to a low buzz, the two nodded briskly at each other in unison and stood up together. Bowser was surprised at how much older Red Bones looked when in a designer suit and lab coat than she had in her cocktail dress at the reception two nights before.

"Yes, yes, I know most of you are looking forward to our fine banquet," Lakitu laughed as he handed the mic over.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!" Dry Bones held one hand out to Red who handed him a familiar thin leather folder. "I'll waste no time upon these brief announcements. First, to clarify what many of you were shocked to spot on our online roster—we do have several last-minute teams who qualified for this tournament!"

A huge dark screen emerged from the wall over the stage, flickering on as it floated in place. "Let's make this quick. Joining Team Mario is the Honeycoupe kart, piloted by the acclaimed Rosalina Toadstool and Lee Luma of the Comet Observatory."

An image of Rosalina's kart appeared on the screen, accompanied with much applause. A chill ran down Bowser's spine at the sight of her signature customized Dragonetti, its paint job a solid, shimmering gold. Sleek aquamarine headlights seemed to stare through his soul, and the buzzing in his stomach reminded him that those were not the only pair of pale blue eyes fixed on him.

Toadette tugged at his sleeve. "What kinda kart is that? It looks big enough to be street-legal!"

"Heavy-type kart," he replied automatically. "Relatively poor acceleration but ridiculous top speed. Her thrower must be pretty light to keep it from getting bogged down."

"Just like ours!" Toadette giggled.

He nodded, trying in vain not to swallow. This was a more intense event than he had anticipated, even with everything else…

"The second late entry will represent Team Jeremiah, with driver Rob Famicon and thrower Styx Tartosso," Dry Bones continued, the smallest of smiles gracing his pale lips. A new image replaced the Honeycoupe, that of a much smaller vehicle which could have better passed for an airplane than a kart. Matte black and with fins reminiscent of Formula 1 racing vehicles, it stood at a much smaller height than Rosalina's. Lightweight kart, clearly. Bowser raised an eyebrow.

"Don't recognize that one," he whispered to Toadette. "Or the names of the drivers. Weird."

Toadette inhaled sharply. "Dunno about the drivers, but that kart looks familiar," she breathed, her eyes wide.

"Yeah? Where'd you see it?"

"No idea. I don't mean recently—this could have been years ago. Like from an old video game or something…" She chewed her tongue in concentration. Bowser shrugged.

Dry Bones clicked to the next image, a navy kart with gray flame decals. Aqua and bronze accents covered most of the surface, and clearly not for streamlining purposes by the look of it. "Also representing Team Jeremiah is the Concerto kart, with driver Roter Noko and thrower Angoisse Shadow."

"Is it normal for them to have this many late additions?" Toadette quietly asked him.

"You always see two or three karts," Bowser replied, "but usually they'd have shown up on the radar a few times beforehand. I've never _heard _of any of these guys." Very weird.

"Our last delayed-entry karts should not be unfamiliar with most of you," Dry Bones chuckled. "These late entries were the result of team reorganization rather than last-minute signup. Please give a big round of applause to Team Firefly's leader Rex Bowser and Kinoko Toadette on the magnificent Koopa King!"

Bowser grinned at the sight of his kart on that huge screen, more menacing than even he could have ever fathomed. Excellent.

"To those of you wondering of the whereabouts of Koopa Troopa, have no fear! He will continue to race on Team Firefly with thrower Paretta Paratroopa!"

As Paratroopa's winged red lightweight kart appeared onscreen, Bowser could practically taste the collective sighs of relief from the thousand or so people behind him. Now everyone else could feel the way he felt eons ago, the relief of having someone to work with—not being stranded without a partner. No way in hell he would ever forget that afternoon in Koopa's living room, holding that red telephone that had since changed his life so greatly.

"That wraps it up for last-minute entries," Dry Bones laughed. "Before we all adjourn to dinner, the FBR would like to ask the presses to remain recording for an important political announcement at this time."

A jolt ran through Bowser's spine. Dark Bones, after such a long period of silence, finally clapped him on the back. "Get ready. Remember, stay calm, nothing to freak out about. This is a pretty routine declaration. Know what I mean, Rosalina?"

Bowser turned around to shoot her a questioning look. Her expression, though not grave, bore a tense line of something he could not quite name. She held his gaze.

"What's going on?" he whispered.

She shook her head, her drawn eyebrows signaling confusion. No—she stiffened, her eyes suddenly withdrawn, as though thousands of miles away. He swallowed, the suspense eating him alive.

"Thank you, Doctor," he suddenly heard Giga-Bowser boom over the mic. "Though I would like to welcome every racer here who has traveled from his or her nation outside of the boundaries of our realm, I am pleased to announce that today is a great day specifically for the Mushroom Kingdom as a monarchical body."

Bowser slowly turned in his seat to face the stage, his heart pounding.

"For today, let it be known, I, Saulus Rex Giga-Bowser Kerog, officially declare my intended heir for the Kerog Dynasty."

Applause broke out. Bowser quickly exchanged glances with Toadette, then Dark Bones, who smiled back wistfully.

"The man I am about to call to this stage has not been told ahead of time," the king continued. "But after careful deliberation of the Mushroom Kingdom's national council, it has been determined that should anything… dramatic… happen to myself during my slot as regent, this person is wholly capable of picking up the pieces I drop until the council can elect a suitable monarch at that time. Council, please present yourselves upon this stage."

More applause. Dark Bones nodded and strode up to the stage steps with a politician's swagger, confidently and with improbable grace. Bowser clutched Toadette's hand, hoping he was not completely cutting off her circulation. He could dimly hear the murmurs far in the back of the multiple news reporters going apeshit over this new development.

"Will everyone please stand as the Council calls Rex Kerog Bowser to the stage," Dark Bones hummed into the podium microphone.

What sounded like a cannon blast brought Bowser back to his senses; the entire audience behind him had erupted into a cheering frenzy. But they mattered not.

He looked at Rosalina. _Help me_, he mouthed.

_Please. I don't know what's happening here. I don't understand. Where is this going to go? _

Many more words formed in his mouth and mind yet remained captive, disappearing back into the aether as rapidly as they had formed, whether due to fear or discomfort or a desire to not run and hide but to instead meet this unnamable challenge—experience—fate? What was it he felt the need to run from? What did any of this _mean_?

Rosalina shook her head, her eyes unreadable even as her lips formed the slightest of smiles, and placed one hand over her heart. "Go."

After one more sleeve tug from Toadette he turned around and took Dark Bones' path to the stage. The nine finely-suited council members beckoned him over, their expressions benign yet inexplicably unreadable. As soon as he turned to face the onlookers, all sound seemed to halt completely; the hundreds of faces blurred together into darkness. He felt at peace. He had no choice.

_Is this good? Bad? Can I say no? Should I say no? Please, _please,_ help me—_

He felt weight on his shoulders, and not solely in the metaphorical sense. Two attendants had fitted the ceremonial spike-lined leather shoulder guards into place on him, carefully fanning his hair out so as not to have it catch in the decorative armor's intricate bronze and garnet detailing. He felt numb. The world spun.

_No_. _Stay strong_. _Pick your battles._

Rosalina's one visible eye caught his, a bastion of fresh blue light amid the hurricane of people around him. He held fast, desperate for a foundation, for stillness.

"Good work, kid," he could hear the king chuckle. "And good luck tomorrow." He took Bowser's hand and slid on an heirloom ring, rich gold studded with emeralds around a single garnet.

"Thank you," he whispered in response, not willing to test his voice. By now the newspeople had crowded the stage with reporters and cameras; he held Rosalina's gaze as the flashes went off, the rest of the audience continuing their standing ovation.

In what seemed like half a second later, the Shy Guys managed to clear out the reporters and clean up the auditorium, the crowds streaming out the back doors toward the banquet hall, hungry but happy and brimming with new gossip for dinner. Still bemused, Bowser took Toadette's hand and followed her to where the rest of his team waited by the foyer doors. They rushed to greet him, Daisy giving him a tight hug.

"Dude! You could have _told _me!" Koopa shook his head in disbelief, his smile wide. "No, wait, he said you didn't know…but, come on, surely you could have guessed, right? If you're so qualified to be the heir?"

"Qualified how?" he countered, his stomach slowly strengthening. "I mean, what do they expect me to do?" Count on Koopa to yank him out of emo mode. He draped one arm on his friend's shoulder, happy just to be back among non-politicians.

"Attend state events. Dress cool. Make smartalecky observations at council meetings." Waluigi gently pat him on the back. "Congrats."

"I wish they'd let you keep that armor thing for the race," Toad laughed. "It almost matches your kart!"

"Hey, I still have the ring," Bowser replied in a false whine. "I feel like that's the only really significant thing that happened tonight, you know? Free shit for Bowser. No applause, just throw blue coins…"

Toadette giggled, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, well, if you let what happened tonight go to your head, I might have to smack you repeatedly."

"Koopa, you didn't tell me they'd show the kart to all those people! Thank goodness I buffed it up before turning it into Lakitu's garage," Paratroopa laughed, ruffling her boyfriend's hair.

"It was way better looking than those Jeremiah karts," Baby whispered. "Who _are_ those people, even? Toad ran an internet search on the phone and _nothing_ showed up outside this season's roster! The hell?"

"Doesn't matter," Wario sneered. "Between our team, Boo's and Birdo's karts, and Rosalina, these new people are toast, no? Anyone wanna bet on whether they make top eight?"

"Hey, hey, no betting this early in the game," Bowser rebuked. A second later his stomach rumbled, and loudly. When was the last time he'd eaten? On the road, some eight or nine hours ago. "Dinner?" he asked his friends, gesturing to the door.

"Fuck yeah, food!" Daisy squealed. "Took 'em long enough, am I right?" Laughter abounded.

Team Firefly exited the auditorium in top form.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

**End Part One**

Halfway through! Thank you again for your helpful reviews! Please keep checking out the livejournal for more fun stuff I can't really put into text, like tournament brackets and world maps. Yum.

Quick note: Yes, the political stuff is pretty confusing. Who's siding with whom, and for what purpose? Just bear with me and take everything as you see it, and I promise all shall be revealed in good time. ;)

-XOXO L.L.


	13. Interlude: Another Castle

Hey everyone! So sorry for the hiatus. I'm all over the place in college. The good news is that the first chapter of part II of this fic is almost complete so it won't be too much longer before the next update!

MessengerOfDreams: Have none of my messages been reaching you? I swear I've tried to send a response at least three times since July. I love your cover images! Would you mind if I post them on the blog? If not tell me how you'd like to be credited and so forth.

Nitedream: In case you're reading this fic, I'm sorry but it's going to be quite a while before Void goes back up. After this Mariokart fic is over I'm going to update it since more KH games have come out since I finished lol.

* * *

Interlude

* * *

He snaps awake at the sound of knocking on his door. Just when it looked like he was about to get some sleep for once. _Not _another_ damn lawyer_…

"GO AWAY!"

Silence.

Another knock. And a voice.

"Bowser? That's you?"

He bolts awake. It's not his uncle, or any of the other old men.

It's a woman's contralto, deep and full… and bitter. Hearing his name uttered by this voice sends a jolt down his spine. After weeks and weeks of grizzled old man voices, growling, gnashing, arguing—over laws, over money, over the dead themselves, over the living—this yanks him unceremoniously from his constant dark and hazy reverie. Unceremoniously, and, somehow, more beautifully than he could have ever hoped.

"I'm here," he calls back, astonished at how much his voice cracks after his shout. Inwardly he pounds himself to death for screaming at this woman and her voice.

"May I come in?"

It's so smooth, he thinks. Like pulling on a robe of silk or velvet—it forces his anger to soften, beguiling his rage into a warm stupor.

"Y-yeah—" He jumps to his feet and stumbles to the door to unlock it.

A split second before he pushes the door open he briefly realizes what he must look like—no shirt or shoes, his hair unkempt, his face stained and red from crying and screaming. The rest of his body is gaunt, his skin sallow from days without food or sunlight.

Too late. The door opens.

"Hello."

He processes first and foremost that she is heartbreakingly beautiful, and then that she is taller than him—a rarity. Her pale hair falls past her shoulders, one thick lock covering her right eye. He takes a step back. "Who are you?"

The lady nods, doesn't answer, turns slightly. She has to sense his fear. "Come step outside with me, for a bit." Could he only drink her voice.

He blinks. "O-outside?"

"…Yes. Whenever you're ready. It's cold out…maybe put on a jacket."

She drifts away, as though preferring to float in lieu of walking.

With a thud his door slams shut, but not before he forces a shirt over his head and slips into a pair of boots, not bothering even to lace them up. Can't find a jacket, not enough time to dig around for one. Turns the doorknob.

Where is she?

"Downstairs," she calls, as though having read his mind. He swallows and takes the steps two at a time.

His house is a wreck. Distant relatives and "friends" had come and gone, leaving the furniture mussed and the floors dirty. Granted, it had not been much to start with, a dark two-bedroom apartment where his parents only stayed a few weeks of the year when not away racing.

The lady waits outside with what has to be an alien life-form, probably from one of planets out in space where they'd finally established a few colonies. It's a little boy, six or seven, sparkling, blonde. Cute. The boy gazes up at him with shining black eyes, reflections of the dark sky above.

"Come, come in." She glances at his bare arms but says nothing, guiding him and the boy into a sleek town car. The driver is not a Shy Guy, but another alien, far older than the boy crawling into the front passenger seat.

He slides into the back with the young lady. It _is_ cold. His arms are freezing off. She flips one of the sleek platinum switches on an overhead control panel and at once heated air cascades down his shoulders, more comforting than any jacket. He sighs and leans back into the soft leather. The finely-suited driver starts the engine.

Some time passes before he thinks to ask.

"Where are we going?" His snarl probably makes him come off as rude, but come on. What the hell was with all of this?

"We're driving around the city in no particular pattern," she replies. It finally dawns on him what she's wearing—it's a sleek white business suit, her sleeves and pant legs loose and billowing. She is barefoot, a small platinum toe ring gleaming on her left foot. _How are her feet not frozen off?_

"Am I… a hostage?" He's too tired to freak out, but it's a viable option. His parents are dead and he's pretty sure his uncle is high up in the government.

She laughs, then quickly stiffens as though fearing having made a mistake.

"No. We are not kidnapping you, Rex."

"...How do you know my name?"

"I knew your parents." Of course.

He looks at her again, now closer to her face. She is _very_ young. Nineteen or twenty at the most, though her voice does not match. It must be her expression that elevates her further into adulthood, he guesses. Too complex, even and especially for him.

And why does her face look so familiar?

"How?"

"I interned at the FBR my freshman year of college," she replies, "and was lucky enough to meet them while assisting an All-Cup Tourney referee the year they took second in the finals."

Oh. So she was also in the racing business. He doubts he will ever race again.

"But you're… not with the FBR anymore?"

"No. Now I'm head of a small committee within the Galaxy Projects Initiative."

_Damn. _He immediately sits up straighter. "How old _are_ you?" Were she here, his mother would have undoubtedly slapped him for that question. His—his mother—

She smiles. "Pauline never told you?"

Lightning strikes him. A boulder falls through the car roof, crashing onto his head. A rabid bear tears through the body of the car and snaps his skull up in a resounding _CRUNCH_. He is _some_ kind of idiot.

"You're Rosalina," he breathes, feeling his face flush. Is she here to kill him? Or worse?

"Correct."

_Your sister dumped me three weeks ago. It was the least she could do. _"But what do you want?"

She nods. He sees the resemblance, now—the same slightly curvy face as Peach's, the same iridescent blonde hair, the same shape of eye if hers were slightly paler at the iris—

"I have some information for you," she replies. "It might come as alarming, so I first need to judge whether you are in a stable enough state to process it without trauma."

_Is she a human or robot? Who talks like that? _"Alarming? You mean the information? Is—is it bad?" He doesn't want any more bad news, even from the stunning Rosalina. Yet something inside him craves to know—dying from the suspense. He likes to know, to be in charge. To be in control. Running his life even if from behind the scenes, so long as he is the one running it. And yet...

She blinks. "Yes. It's… not good news. I don't want you to have to deal with more than you already—" One aqua eye trails from his dirty hair to his stained tee to his frigid-white knuckles defrosting in the artificially-warm air—"more than you already have going on."

"Am I getting put into social services? Ward of the state?"

She bites her lip. "No. Your…uncle…has agreed to support you, financially at least. But it looks like he's hiring an on-site guardian for you as he is rarely at home, what with…recent developments in the global community."

Bowser exhales sharply. Fucking lame. "Then that's the bad news? Why am I getting a babysitter? I'm seventeen in two weeks!"

Rosalina shakes her head, a smallest hint of a smile appearing on her lips. Her eyes do not share the amused look. "No, that's not the bad news, or at least not what I brought you here for."

That's true. "Are we talking in a moving car because you're hiding from the law? You don't want to be traced?" Is he in some kind of classic mobster movie? Was this real life? His head spins, his vision dissolving into waves of vivid aquamarine, gold and white.

"Hmm." Rosalina brushes her thumb against her lower lip in thought. "Not…not yet. My parents are still in power, at the moment."

"But not for long?" God, this is juicy. He needs to be more polite, but he can hardly wait to hear this sacred information.

"Time will tell." She pulls up one knee to her chest and stares out the window. _She's nervous, or something. Something…_the word he is looking for is along the lines of sad, or lonely, or wistful, but he can't conjure it.

"Who are we hiding from?"

She nods. "We're hiding from your uncle, Saulus Giga-Bowser."

A chill runs down his spine. "What? Why?"

"As I said before…" Her gaze penetrates him. "This might come as a shock."

"How come? What did he do? Please tell me…please…" He keeps repeating these words. Anything but silence. He needs to know.

The car plunges into a tunnel. He's pretty sure it's the long F-10 underpass either at Airport or Main. The dashboard lights flip on as darkness fills the small car.

Rosalina sighs. She is conceding. "He… arranged the deaths of your parents."

It takes a bit for her words to register. Meanwhile the car finally emerges from the tunnel, back into the dark vivid city. All hues of light from the neon street signs glow on the shiny leather seat, soft rainbows, manifesting without warning and disappearing just as quickly as the car speeds over the pavement.

"…what?" He suddenly feels cold. His body understands even if his mind has not processed the words yet.

She nods, swallowing, looking at him through half-open eyes. "We found records in his bank account of purchases of the same explosives used in that All-Cup race…and that he was one of three gamblers against well over ninety-thousand betting against your parents' victory there. He's won over the equivalent of two million coins from that event alone." Her words are pouring out quickly now, as though she is trying to expel them from her tongue as rapidly as possible to avoid scorching herself.

Bowser closes his eyes. They fill. He turns away, looks at the window. Begins to rain. Rains oil, rains acid, rains venom. The car windows shapeshift into beehives as countless mud-colored droplets land on the smooth glass, miniature waterfalls with momentary lifespans. Is the driver schizophrenic?

He stays in the car for hours. No stopping. Rosalina stays with him in the back seat. No talking, no touching, no moving. He passes out around nine that evening, curled up on the soft leather.

Wakes up in a hospital bed. Rosalina's asleep in a chair next to him, still barefoot. Thick book splayed open on the floor. It's fallen from her lap. Her jeweled toes are near blue with cold. Her hand is warm, clutching his softly. His grip in return is much tighter.

Wakes up at home, not his home, moves out, moves away. Has he been inside this castle before? Don't touch the lava!—_Fuck_. Not touching the lava. Don't drink or swim in the purple water. Hiya, kid. Don't mess with me. Listen up. Hold up. Hush up.

"Get up."

The hunch-backed old man kicks him back into high school. Through the horn-rim frames of his glasses, his eyes are kind, and will see straight through any crap Bowser tries to pull.

Finally returns to Koopa, who has been texting him daily for the past month. Waluigi and Wario want to invest—in his kart. Peach runs away, leaves him an anonymous text. The younger Mario brother gets kicked out, not from college. Two sophomores get in trouble for ending fights all too well—the blonde kid always gets bullied, the redhead goes in for the rescue, both come out on top, never mind the rumors.

Bowser takes them under his wing. They begin their winning streak, the first of many. One has to wonder how or why a clump of middle-class uptowners consistently pound every street racer in the metro area. Bowser becomes a king, whether he's aware of it or not. Maybe he ignores the title on purpose. Maybe he's hiding something. I have no clue.

Grand duchess of Sarasaland has a kid at the University here in town. Luigi falls in love. Koopa starts a relationship online, one of his friends from elementary school. She wants to learn how to race.

Rosalina leaves the planet for good, or so it feels like. Another civilization of Piranha Plant people has been discovered on a new planet, and she is the first to communicate with them. They have sparkling green flesh and fiery golden hair, but one whisp of Mushroom City's oxygen burns them worse than any fire. Quite the health hazard scandal, though not according to the King's media. He watches Rosalina on national, then global, then interplanetary news reels. She gets taller every time he sees her.

Daisy moves in with Luigi. In bed one night and hears a crash. Some kids messing with her car. She chases them off with a chainsaw, screaming things he never thought could come from that mouth. She never sleeps again. Sugar, caffeine, and paranoia do the trick, or so she says. So they see.

Toad's parents get simultaneous promotions. Empty house. Too empty. Follows Baby home one night.

Wario purchases an Oldsmobile 442. It's the first car he's ever purchased. It's the first time since Bowser's street race gamble he's ever spent more than ten coins at once. The engine and paint are shit, to say nothing of the interior. Wally helps him fix it up. It blossoms.

Rosalina drops him a line. Checks on him. Sends him a spiked leather strap for one birthday. It's sharp on the outside…soft on the inside. He wears it for luck. It works.

He and Koopa enter a local tourney—official, this time. First, first, second, first. Regional invite. Third, second, first, third. Places for that winter's All-Cup.

The first of many.

Discouraged? Disgruntled? Furious? Exhausted?

Keep racing.

* * *

Sorry this post is so short. We'll have more substance next time! Again, please review!

Again, this fanfic account has a sister blog at lightninglaveau dot livejournal dot com. Feel free to check it out!

XOXO L.L.


	14. Luma Polari

Hey everyone. Turns out they're building an enormous motorsports park here in New Orleans, complete with a 30-yard-wide karting track. So much for my GPA…

**Part II: All-Cup**

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Thirteen

It had been ages since Birdo last smoked, but the all-encompassing grip of a diehard craving had yet to release its grasp upon her nerves. Still she resisted, fighting an uphill battle with no great weapon of her own. Her body and soul ached in ways she had thought impossible. No, no. _Resist._

This hotel room was nice enough. Baron Brr took good care of Boo's team. Even if his daughter bordered on the snooty side. Though she was indeed endearing in her own way.

She glanced at her suitcase in attempt to distract herself. What to wear for the first race—pink hoodie, or leather jacket? Both would look fine with her jeans and heels. Quite the conundrum.

A sudden rapping on the door sent her jumping five feet into the air.

_Holy—_"Coming!" Not too loud, what with Yoshi still sprawled over most of the bed. Then again she would need to wake him soon, hells forbid he miss the first race. She leapt across the sitting area to open the door, not bothering to pull anything on over her lingerie. As if this guest would care.

As he entered, Petey gave a formal nod of the head, carefully unwrapping the scarf from his mouth as he moved. Birdo pranced to the kitchenette and turned on the coffeemaker, watching her friend slowly emerge from his protective coverings before collapsing into an armchair. The urge to smoke dimmed away as her colleague's sunglasses and ski hat came off.

Petey's skin was a welcome distraction, an electrifying absinthe-bottle color that lightened ever so slightly over his joints and palms. Even after having known him for years, Birdo still jumped at every chance she could get to admire Petey's looks. Shallow in theory, yes, but a thrill nonetheless. Moments like these felt like privileges to her.

Birdo was painfully aware that Petey could never truly belong in Mushroom City, not while the abrasive smog still lingered. He needed to rest his soul in a clean place, somewhere far away. That said, his prospects were heartbreaking.

"Lemme get that for you," she murmured, heading for the window. As she pulled the blinds up to the ceiling, Petey crossed the room in two lengthy strides to sit in the pool of sunlight flooding the floor. He carefully and deliberately crossed his legs and draped his arms over his knees.

The view outside was astonishing. It had sprinkled mildly through the night, but though the rain had ceased, the remaining wispy clouds remaining cast a vivid golden sheen over everything Birdo could see. The hotel courtyard looked positively magical, its lawns composed of blades of champagne-tinted glass spears.

_Good light here_, he informed her. _So many stars. _Petey's focus was never on the ground. The guy was, for all intents and purposes, spacey.

Birdo swallowed, straining to imagine the beautiful sky Petey's delicately-filtered eyes could view when outside Mushroom City, away from the pollution. Nothing obscured.

They sat in silence for a few minutes as he soaked in the sunlight. Birdo suddenly had a thought.

"What's it taste like?"

_What do you think,_ Petey scoffed.

"Like…fire? Is it hot? …sweet? Like… fruit?"

_Like food_. He shot her a specific look. Saucy wretch.

"Fuck you."

He was amused. Birdo shook her head and poured the coffee for herself and Yoshi, who had begun to stir moments ago.

"Morning, space dragon."

"Uhn…w-what time's…?" He gingerly took the paper cup from her hand, sitting up slightly.

"Nine. Petey's over for breakfast."

"Uh." Yoshi blinked and sipped the hotel coffee. "Yo, ask him what he did all night—Boo and Bow went off somewhere I think, 'n DK 'n Diddy too—he by himself?"

"Yeah, where you been?" she called toward the sitting room.

_Phoned home._ Petey cracked his neck, likely sore from him having sat up alone all night.

Yoshi sniffed. "For real? You should've told me… haven't talked to your mom in forever…"

_Bids namaste. Sad to miss._

"Huh. We gotta try to get them to come watch the races live next season. You and Boo are doing too well."

Birdo's language always felt awkward when she conversed with Petey. It was something akin to attempting heart surgery with a sledgehammer. The ideas Petey could communicate to her were so succinct, so vivid, that her spoken speech in return felt positively infantile.

_Wait for signal still. Unlikely._

Yoshi's jaw dropped. "You _still_ can't cut loose? This is your third All-Cup! Why would they even bother conducting all that shit f'you can't even—?"

_Exactly_.

Birdo's eyes suddenly stung, welling up in horror. What images Petey could not convey to her with spoken word, he sent directly to her mind. And how she wished he would take it back.

Yoshi hissed. "That's _nasty._ No one has the right to—"

_Construct,_ Petey reminded him. _These rights—meaningless. To him, to me._

_Such bullshit_, Birdo thought. Nonetheless, she calmed herself. Petey had merely confirmed what she had already long suspected.

"That doesn't leave us a lot of time, then," she mused aloud. "Any clue how long we have til the Desert race?"

Silence. As expected. No one, not even the officials themselves, knew the locations of the races until a maximum of two days before each.

"Yeesh." Yoshi gulped his coffee down, sitting back up in bed. "Should we… tell him, then?"

"After the first race," Birdo conceded, returning to her suitcase in a weak display of composure. "I want to see how he does against the King's dream team."

Yoshi raised one eyebrow. Not fooled. "Huh. You picked your clothes out yet?"

Birdo grinned, holding up her leather jacket in front of the mirror. Yes, this would do. "You… ever get that feeling… you know you're gonna win?"

"Yeah," he whispered, staring into his coffee. "It's there. Almost…unbearable…I can't feel anything else." He drank deeply.

Birdo nodded at the mirror, catching glimpses of her darling boyfriend and a sliver of Petey through the bedroom doors in its reflection. "This is it."

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

11:30am, Luigi Stadium, athlete sector.

Toadette could not breathe. She had lost the ability. Gone.

The stands were _enormous_. All the TV coverage of the races she had seen prior to this could not have caught the sheer magnitude of the place as it stood now. Had it truly been her imagination, or did the FBR constructed more stands since she had seen the last race on TV…?

So long ago. She had always been allowed to sit in front, what with her lack of height and all. Petey had always had to sit in the rear when in a viewing session. So tall, and that _hair_…distracting, to anyone stuck behind him. But what a wonderful distraction. Her stomach churned at the thought of finally competing against him…for real, this time. This mattered.

_Watch carefully._

That…that voice… she strained to remember. Something buzzed, a feeling deep within her chest, as though her heart's core had suddenly combusted. Something… urgent.

_Watch…learn…_

She snapped to attention just in time to keep from crashing headlong into a passerby. Without Bowser's leathery hand she would surely have been lost to the mercy of the waves of racers and stadium employees and media spokespersons running in every direction possible. The view must be exquisite up there, she figured. Not only did she have no clue where they were headed, but she was simply too short to tell which direction led where. _Balls._

"Racers to the garage! Racers to the garage!"

She suddenly heard the rest of the team chattering just behind her.

"Koopa, where's ours?"

"Shit, that time already?"

"Here we go…"

"You are such a _dick_!"

"Over here!"

Five green bay doors rolled up and away to reveal five sleek karts, gleaming and ready for action. Though varying greatly in size, shape, and color, they each bore one decal on their front bumpers: a single tongue of fire from which protruded four spikes—green and yellow for the Bloom Coach, red and white for the Parawing, purple and gold for Wario's car, orange and blue for Toad's Bullet Blaster, and black and pink for the Koopa King. Bowser had insisted. In any case, the bubblegum shade looked quite vibrant against the gunmetal and green hues of the monster kart.

"I'll check the engine," Bowser told her without making eye contact. "Make sure everything in the interior and pedestal look okay."

She checked underneath the seat. "You think someone would mess with our kart?"

"I like to think no one would, but we both know of at least one guy who isn't above it."

Everything looked fine; Bowser seemed to be going about some type of ritual, checking weather conditions, making sure his team was hydrated, glancing around nonchalantly at the karts of the opposing teams, making silent judgments.

He seemed entirely too on edge, at least to Toadette; she made faces at Koopa until he beckoned her over.

"This is a tough race for Bow," he whispered while ostensibly checking the Parawing's tires. "Luigi Stadium is where he lost his parents. Shit like that happens to you, you can't just pretend everything's all peachy. This is the easiest race in the whole cup—no way anything crazy will go down—but Bow's gonna spend every second of it assuming something else is going to blow up. Nothing we do can change that. Just gotta help him through it. I did, and now it's your turn. Watch his back." He squeezed her shoulder.

As she returned to the Koopa King, time seemed to halt. Odd. She glanced up, just in time to notice that kart, _that_ kart, the teal tanker named Concerto. Why, _why_ so familiar? Her mind buzzed the way it always did when her family was brought up in the labs—so cruel. Not that she had understood at the time. One racer leaned against its turquoise hull in a most jaunty angle, confident, unmoving. So curious.

And so she analyzed. Away the cogs flew. Somewhat tall, yet too thin to ever qualify for a heavy kart a la her own partner. Could not recognize his face, either. No particularly outstanding traits—boring. He could blend in anywhere, she thought. Scary. Had _never_ seen this man before, was all she could think. How frustrating.

_Golden._

Her Item?

_Unlimited speed. Yes, this _is_ a good one. Time is its price tag._

The world around her faded to white—glinting, pristine, cold. Tiled floor, triangular white tiles—oh, no_—not—not again—_

_Well done, young lady._

Perfume—mandarine…rose…heliotrope…something else, altogether deeper—

_Well done._

"Toadette! You ready?"

"Huh?" Toadette blinked, clearing her mind of the sudden reverie. A memory? A dream?

"Everything alright?" Daisy squeezed her shoulder.

"Uh…yeah…" Toadette looked about for the Concerto again, or either of its racers. Nowhere to be seen. "Yeah… I'm good."

Seemingly milliseconds later the time came to roll the karts onto the starter bay. In the two hours that had passed since they had arrived, the stadium had completely filled to standing-room only in the nosebleed sections dangling half a mile over their heads. Toadette leaned against the thrower pedestal, rubbing her thumbs against the titanium trim. Bowser looked to be in awful shape, hunched over in the driver seat, his gaze locked upon his new ring.

Toadette hopped onto the pedestal and leaned over the Thrower's bar until her feet dangled in the air. "You okay?"

He appeared to steady his breathing. "Okay enough to place. Let's kick Boo to the curb."

"That's more like it," she told him as Lakitu floated to the starting line. The mere sound waves from the crowds around them nearly knocked her over—she had _never_ before heard such a roar. Such a _mob_. Karting fanatics…crazies. She grinned.

"Here we go." Bowser licked his lips, returning his gaze to the starter lights.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

_Three. Two. One_.

Bowser tattooed his foot onto the pedal, exhaling away his weariness.

The smell of gasoline permeated the air. Engines revved, those of the more veteran teams blasting forward in a blue haze, his own included. He and Toadette had hit the perfect double-dash vector. Sign of good luck.

Other karts started forward without the coveted blue boost, including Koopa's and Wario's and a bunch of the unfamiliar small-town champions he doubted would make it past the semifinals. At least they were better than those who had hit the pedal too early, currently spinning out behind the line. Precious seconds lost. Bowser did not concern himself with start-failures. These people were beneath him.

He could afford to zone out here, in this first race. A single split-lane straightaway alternating with two hairpin curves. This was no test of skill, but merely a filter through which the weakest would inevitably fall. He almost always placed at this course.

Driving in these first few seconds was always particularly fun—he managed to take the lead, letting other cars crash into his rear bumper and spin out—one of the privileges of being the heaviest kart on the track. Give Toadette some laughs. He snaked to and fro, effectively cockblocking any kart without a Star or Mushroom. Suckers.

The first kart to successfully pull ahead of him was one of the late-entries, the nameless Jeremiah kart. Bowser strained to catch a glimpse of its racers. The long-limbed thrower, clad in simple gray slacks and a not-so-simple black Ferrari jacket, almost completely obscured Bowser's view of the driver. Pitch-black wraparound sports glasses concealed most of the thrower's face.

Any further attempt to scrutinize his opponent was cut short when the other newbie kart—the Concerto, he remembered last-second—swerved straight into him. "Holy shit!"

"I got 'em!" Toadette shoved the other kart's driver as Bowser swooped around the first curve. Clearly taken aback, the masked thrower barked something to her driver and they drifted left over the speed panels on the road's outer rim. _Roter Noko_, Bowser recalled. She wore an ivory skintight traditional racing suit—not out of place for a stock car race, but odd for karting. Her driver… Shadow… something, yeah?—had on a matching dark indigo suit and mouth covering. In any case they worked quite well with their team's other kart, pulling an exchange that seemed excruciatingly tight even to Bowser.

"They've gotta be a middleweight kart," Toadette called, giggling. "Can't stand a chance against ours."

"Watch the rear right," he called back. Boo and Petey rapidly approached from behind, the latter most notably with a shell in hand. They flew over the ramp onto the second straightaway. Bowser glanced to his right to check up on the karts in last place, immediately cheering up when he realized he recognized none of them. His team was making him proud in these first few seconds.

"Green shell from rear right!"

"Got it!" Bowser veered further right, watching the shell zoom past to the left. "Get anything from that box?"

"Banana."

"Hold onto it in case—"

"Throwing now!"

Bowser heard a crash from behind and winced. "What _was_ that?"

"Red shell! It's that same kart that thought it could ram into us—the Concerto!"

Lord. Who would have guessed these unknowns would think to put up a fight? "They wanna get dirty, huh? Switch!"

"Got it!"

He swapped places with Toadette, carefully eyeing his rearview mirrors. Sure enough, there came the ugly bronze and teal kart, this time with its racers in switched positions. Noko, now in the driver seat, swerved the kart into them again but immediately flew off upon contact as Bowser shoved the whole vehicle backwards. He roared in triumph upon watching them spin out.

"What'd you hit them with?" Toadette called from the driver seat.

"We got them right when you pulled a mini-turbo," he shouted back, running his tongue over his lower lip in glee. "Just barbecued their asses."

"Ha. Wonder why that driver's doing all the work."

Bowser nodded. The darker-suited racer had so far been completely passive, holding onto his shell without so much as an attempt at an aiming pose. Ridiculous, for an All-Cup race. They continued down the first stretch with Toadette performing a perfect sliding dash into the first hairpin curve. "Doing okay?"

"Yeah…"

Toadette had been spaced out the whole morning. But then again, so had he, to some extent. He remembered her reaction to seeing that kart last night—how familiar it had looked to her. But what did that mean? Familiar, as in back from before her time in the labs? During? Was she even capable of telling those stages apart anymore?

Something told him he would find out quickly enough.

Suddenly the world around them darkened. Bowser felt the blood drain from his face—how familiar _this_ felt—and glanced behind them in time to witness what looked like a comet blazing with electric blue fire rocketing toward them.

"Is it a blue shell?" Toadette screeched, having gone pale.

"No," Bowser called back, his heart pounding. "Switch!"

Once back in the driver seat, he veered sharply to the left, the blue comet then approaching them rapidly to the right. The Koopa King's speed boosted sharply as they ran through the dash panels. He glanced to their right, suddenly craving a pair of sunglasses, as the comet swooped past them—how fast was she _going_? His own speedometer read at nearly seventy, largely due to the dash panels—_nuts_.

Toadette leaned over and hissed in his ear, likely in case her voice had cracked. "What _is _that?"

"Rosalina. She probably had to fall back below eighth to pick up that particular power-up."

"_Rosalina's_ the comet?"

"Yeah." They flew over the ramp onto the straightaway, snagging a double Item box. "Got my shell! C'we switch?"

"Hang on!" She dropped a fake box on the pavement behind them. Seconds later Bowser heard a horrifying scream from not too far behind. "Gottem!"

"Who'd you throw it at?" Bowser switched into Thrower position, readying his aim.

"Boo and Petey! They're speeding up, though!"

True. He glanced behind to find the Boo Pipes kart charging toward them at full speed. "They get a boost or what?"

"I hit them before they made the jump! Watch out!"

Oh. Duh. Boost ramps had potential to be the best places to recover from a collision.

"Gotta work on your game, Bowsah!" Boo taunted, gesturing with a single red shell.

Not bothering to hesitate, Bowser chucked his enormous spiked shell behind them, effectively wiping Boo and Petey from third place.

"Did…did Boo just…call…a surprise attack?"

"Yeah. He's that much of a dolt."

Not that his shell stopped at Boo. One of his favorite parts about his gigantic Item was its ability to crush multiple targets in a row without shattering. Music to his ears, those karts crashing repeatedly on end. Hopefully his team members would see it in time to dodge.

Bowser steeled himself for the end of the second lap; the third lap was always where the most shit went down. People always become most desperate when the end of their time nears. He switched back into the driver seat.

Sure enough, the other unknown kart pulled in front of him—difficult get a better view of the driver from this angle, but the thrower was a fucking robot. Hopefully this Rob character would turn out to be a person wearing a very complex metal costume, but in the meantime it bewildered Bowser completely.

Toadette clearly noticed it as well. "How's that even allowed?"

"I don't wanna know. Let's pull up." Bowser executed a quick mini-turbo, pulling even with his opponents within seconds.

"My Item's a red shell!"

"Go for it. I'd rather be in second than th—ARGHH!"

After recovering from the most bizarre whiplash angle he had ever felt in his life, Bowser frantically corrected the kart. They had spun off the track—_how_? Why?

"That Rob guy shot our kart with a laser!" Toadette yelped. "What the _hell_ kind of Item is—"

"Fire your red shell if you still have it!"

"Way ahead of you!"

Sure enough, Bowser looked up just in time to find Toadette's red projectile colliding with the Jeremiah kart just ahead.

"Nice! C'mon, I don't want Rosalina beating me by too many seconds," he laughed as they zoomed past the smoking kart.

"There's no way! She's almost at the end of the straightaway," Toadette breathed, staring at the radar in horror. "How on earth did she get so far ahead?"

Bowser shook his head, having known how this would play out the instant he had seen her comet approach. "Like I said. She's going to beat us…I just don't want it to be by _too_ much. The BaBooshka's all the way back in sixth. Not gonna stress myself out in the first goddamn race."

"Spiny shell incoming!" Toadette whistled as the gleaming blue nuke rocketed past them. "You think we can pass them once it—?"

"No," Bowser replied, bracing himself for a sight he had not witnessed in years. "You see the Item her Thrower's holding from here? She's been making sure he's kept it for this exact situation since the beginning of the second lap. They'll be fine." God _damn_ it, he would have to figure out how to get past this soon.

They boosted off the northern hairpin ramp, flying into the air where Toadette would have a perfect view of the scene about to go down.

In the span of a second, Rosalina's thrower—the Luma boy; Lee?—turned to face the fearsome blue shell and spun in place as the winged explosive made contact; the shell rebounded in a shower of sparkles and ricocheted into the sky. Gone.

"_What _the…" Toadette breathed, astounded. "H-how? What just—? "

"The Luma kid has to time it perfectly," Bowser replied, shaking in spite of himself. "But if he's successful, he can bounce back any Item thrown at him—even the big spiny."

Toadette suddenly shrieked. "Watch ou—!"

"Whoa!" Fake Item box. Bowser cursed inwardly—not only were those mothers exceedingly difficult to tell apart from their infinitely-more-useful cousins, they made his kart crash and flip rather than a mere spin-out. He righted himself on the edge of the road as two karts passed him—the Concerto kart and Yoshi's.

"Sorry about that," he called while performing a mini-turbo.

"You can still get third! Birdo just hit the other kart with an egg!"

"Fine with me. C'mon."

Indeed, the Jeremiah kart had flipped off of the road, with two bananas and a Mushroom springing from what must have been the point of collision. Bowser sped through the power-up, boosting into third place. They drifted smoothly through the final curve, the crowds thundering as they rolled past the stadium stands, toward that gleaming line.

Game.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"Many game theorists have called your kart winning this season. Your thoughts?"

"Bowser, your team has performed excellently so far this race! Do you perhaps plan on enlarging it again by next season?"

"You seemed to butt heads quite a few times with the karts representing Team Jeremiah; any rivalries with these unknowns you've failed to mention until now?"

The camera struggled to keep up with the redhead as he stomped past. "Game theorists get paid too much for being lazy asses, no clue who these Jeremiah fools are, and I like my team the way it is. Outta my way."

Polari chuckled to himself, watching the post-game show unfold on the television screen. Just like that, all that the cameras could catch were the back of Team Firefly's heads. Just as during the races! Too funny.

Commercial. After glancing at the security feeds and energy maps glinting at him from the sea of monitors clustered around his head, he switched channels, preferring to walk up and dial the television itself rather than using the remote. These remote controllers, they make folks lazy. No good. He flipped to another news channel.

MKNN. "—so early in the season?"

State-sponsored reporter. Eh.

Rosalina's visage graced the screen. "I don't typically plan on throwing my trump card in the first race of so many," she replied in her eerily smooth manager-mode voice. "But when an Item appears, the options are to either use it or wait until a collision and lose it. So." She finished with an irate jerk of the head.

_Patience_, Polari willed. _You knew this was coming, Rozetta-san._

"Last question! Nearly every accredited theorist has bet on Rex Bowser and Kinoko Toadette's kart placing First for the cup's final, yet as we all know, your presence is certainly a possible factor in changing that! Do you believe these theorists need to recalculate?"

Might as well have held up a "wince" cue card. Polari shook his head.

Onscreen Rosalina smiled, and not in a way he ever wished to see again. He felt his eyes burn, and not from the glow of the plasma. "Your theorists have miscalculated before, if I am correct. And I think I just heard a comment over there about how their salaries are disproportionately high." The camera momentarily caught her stomach-clenching glare before switching feed to the next post-race interviewee.

He had to laugh. Too many tears for one fine summer's day.

Back to the anchorwoman. "A veritable dark horse, the Turbo Birdo kart placed second at Luigi Stadium today. MKNN Insider has secured an interview with racers Totaka Yoshi and Catherine Birdo. Over to the Shy Guy on site!"

_Beebeebeeep. _Ah. Polari muted the television and pulled his silver PDA from his breast pocket.

"She's gonna be out biking for a _while_. Can we get food?"

Oh, Lee, you child. "Of course. I'll pick you up in thirty minutes."

"What? Didn't you say you were on-site?"

"Nonsense. Who else would keep the Observatory running?" He beckoned two attendants over and covered the phone with one hand. "Keep an eye on the engine, will you? Many thanks."

"Fine, but I'm hungry. Food! Star bits!"

"Such a child. No star bits on this planet; I'm guessing you'll have to settle for something with honey."

"Food!"

"Fine, fine, be right down. Did she perchance say anything to you before leaving?"

Lee paused momentarily before responding. "Not… in words. I'm just glad I'm not the King right now. Over and out."

Mercy. Polari readied the sling star coordinates and stepped into the center of the dome.

_Beebeebeeep. _Ah, no, one more call. Nameless number.

"Luma Polari," he recited into the receiver. "Comet Observatory, lower Blue Planet orbit."

"That was an endearing stunt," a high voice murmured on the other end.

Polari checked the number again—ah. Ah, ah, ah. "You sign up late," he chided, inspecting his fingernails, "what you see is what you get. No excuses."

"And you make sure your people don't pull anything you might regret later." That drop in pitch, again! It had begun to irk him some months ago. This man was all over the place—no anchor, no foundation. A walking study in conflict...tragic, nearly.

"I can't think of possibly doing anything I'd ever regret, Doctor. I refrain from entering your races for this exact purpose."

"Then you'd have been far wiser to keep Rosalina out. I know we'd both rather her not end up as yet another casualty of this great mess."

All this banter. Why could we all not just be friends? "Must you foreshadow your own feats so, Doctor? In any case, the toys you handed Banshee's flagship kart certainly helped secure their place today." Seventh? Eighth? _Then again, out of fifty karts, not too shabby. Only been one race so far._

"Toys, you call it. If you had _any_ idea just what you were speaking so lightly of—"

"Toys, Doctor, toys. No matter how many you acquire, I can promise you shall grow no happier. In fact, spoke the same words to your estranged boss in regards to—" The line went dead. "…To money."

Polari sighed. Thank the heavens the other brothers could at least take a joke in stride. He switched his focus instead to the approaching sling.

Such a child.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Yay, more confusing things! Just what everyone wanted!

In case no one noticed, Part II is going to have more POV-switching in general. Too many great characters to let alone, I suppose.

Again, please review! Extra material available at lightninglaveau dot livejournal dot com.


	15. Kupa Junieo

MoD: Yes I did see your blog! Everything you sent me I put into a post on the livejournal. You are the best!

Disclaimer: I am not encouraging drinking and driving in rapid succession. If you get in a car accident because you read about someone else doing it and it turns out you don't have the same tolerance as a fanfiction character, you have only yourself to blame.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Fourteen

_Where...am I?_

Not that the where mattered. This place was...peaceful. Cleansing. Clarifying, in a way. There was something...something he needed to do. A task he had left undone, perhaps? Something missing. Something he had forgotten.

Bowser exhaled deeply, continuing to grope about in the darkness. Something awaited him out there, just past his line of sight. He was so close...too close.

_What do you want__?_

Much to his surprise, an answer greeted him from the dark. Not a voice, nor a visual; the words simply unfolded into existence on their own accord.

_It's your turn._

..._what?_

His turn for what?

"Bowser?"

Toadette's voice startled him awake.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"You look like you're falling asleep! The race take that much out of you?" She squeezed his hand.

"Hell no," he spat. "No one who gets tired just two races in is allowed on my team. _I_ was taking a goddamn Bowser nap."

"Ha. What time is it? Let's grab everybody and get food." All around him managers and reporters and equipment hands rushed about in their own complex patterns, gusts of wind that failed to graze his mountain. He was...indoors?...in the kart bay, on the top three placements' pedestal. Oh, right, the race. He'd placed second behind Yoshi and Birdo. On the other end of the platform stood Koopa and Paratroopa. He shot them a quick thumbs up as more flashbulbs went off, praying no one would want to interview him for too long this time.

"On it." And just in time for happy hour, according to the huge clock overhead. When the reporters were finally cleared out, he and Toadette returned their kart to its spot in the garage and locked up.

It slowly but surely came back to him. The second race, out in the old royal raceway, had flashed by in what felt like milliseconds. They had renamed it a few years ago and had thrown in some environmental hazards—domestic Piranha plants, Goombas here and there, a Chain Chomp for good measure—but all in all it still made for a rather breezy experience.

Bowser caravanned with the others back into Mushroom Bridge, a half-hour drive or so, and parked at the hotel. In the surrounding streets, throngs of people covered in pro karting memorabilia partied and paraded about. He could hear at least twelve different brass and percussion instruments playing all from different directions. As they crossed the road Bowser single-handedly lifted Toadette onto his shoulder lest he lose her in the sea of bodies.

"Whee! I should travel this way more often." She pat him on the head.

The night passed in relative peace, spent hopping from dive bar to dive bar in search of the perfect onion rings. He could not honestly remember the last time everything had felt so...normal. Suspiciously so.

Not that it was to last.

His phone began buzzing just after two in the morning as if on cue. For the most part, the others had taken to an early bedtime what with the promise of Daisy getting them up early to shop the next day, though he could have sworn he heard someone stirring from inside the girls' room. Bowser cursed under his breath and slid it open, thankful he had not yet undressed. His hunches were rarely off by far.

"You awake? I need to talk to you."

_Lord._ "I'm awake. What's the problem?"

"Not...problem, per se. But we need to speak. How far is your hotel from the palace?"

"About twenty minutes. You don't need to send a car."

"Good boy. You don't need to bring anyone with you. Government procedure." _Click_.

Government procedure nine hours after the offices close for the night? Unlikely. Nonetheless Bowser crept out of the room and took the elevator to the hotel's underground garage.

The parade crowds were still largely at it on the main streets of downtown, so instead he took the bridge road on its long loop toward the city castle, relishing every extra second he could spend before reaching his destination. Never before had the crisp starry night of the Mushroom Kingdom's capital seemed so bleak.

In time he pulled into the underground rear entrance of the palace. It had no striking roofline a la the country palace or the Mushroom City's Tower, but Bowser knew the place instead delved far below ground. The building itself was the mere bud of a far larger and more complex root system of subterranean structures.

"Identification?" a Shy Guy asked him as he approached the gate. Bowser thought for a moment before extending his left hand, unadorned save for the ring he had received only a few nights before. "Proceed."

More Shy Guys followed him into the garage proper, waiting patiently as he parked near the elevator lobby one level below. It was not until he stepped inside that he stopped to consider the appearance of the public servants—largely concealed under their red trench coats with their telltale pointed hoods and navy boots. Moreover, where did they come from? Were they...human? If so, to what degree? Thoughts cascaded over him, largely questions, all unanswered. He sniffed, wishing he could have done this earlier.

To his surprise, Bowser was escorted not further below ground but instead up, up to the fifth and topmost floor of the palace. One by one they passed each security checkpoint; his regent ring spoke for him. He shuddered inwardly each time.

Eventually they reached a magnificent set of copper doors, artfully rusted in careful patterns stretching along its twelve-foot height. One of his escorts knocked. Two sharp raps...familiar, somehow. Nostalgic, rather.

"He may enter. The rest of you are dismissed."

How his uncle's voice could ring so clearly even through the thick doors, Bowser did not know. He pulled one of them open—disproportionately light—to find a lavishly furnished office. To his immediate right, an exquisite set of armchairs, coffee tables, and a single loveseat faced an enormous window overlooking the city and bay. He had been here, once before.

"So what's going on?" he asked, turning slightly to his left.

His uncle finished typing on a vintage keyboard with an elegant flourish upon the enter key. His desk faced the windows, heaven forbid any nearby rooftop diner notice the contents of his brass-trimmed LCD screens or any documents on its deep muirapiranga surface. Behind him rich tapestries hung from floor to ceiling, displaying tale after tale of some archaic legend or other in vivid green, red, and gold threads.

"You need to tell me," the monarch replied, standing up, "what exactly it is you're up to."

Bowser nearly laughed. "What I'm up to? I could ask the same of you. Why the hell would you declare an heir with zero leadership experience? All I have is a high school diploma. My only skills limited to automobiles. If the presses get wind of—"

Saulus snorted. "The presses are the least of your worries now, kid. And don't tell me you have zero leadership experience. I know exactly what I'm doing. But do you? What was it that Dry Bones offered you?"

Bowser crossed his arms. "Offered me for what? My partner left and I needed a new one, right when you contacted me telling me to go find him with Lakitu last month. I've literally done what you've asked, nothing more. He gave me a new partner on the house, and now we're performing fine in the Cup."

After a moment of silence, Giga-Bowser slowly crossed over to the living space and sunk into one of the armchairs, kneading his forehead. "I see. So that's who Lakitu was with the night you went to him."

_What?_ Bowser's heart rate skyrocketed. He stepped closer to his uncle's chair. "Yeah. He and Dry Bones were at the Tower together. I didn't have to say much...as soon as he found out I was nearly out for the All-Cup, he told me about his labs and that he'd give me...give me a free trial..." He felt his words evaporate as his mind processed his uncle's exact wording.

_No—wait—you're kidding_—

"I could not afford to have his name traced back to me in any way," the king continued, beginning to smile. "I do suppose that for every mistake you've made, it's because I've already made a dozen."

"Yeah? Who was I supposed to see, then?"

The king pointed over his shoulder to the gargantuan wooden desk. "There's a folder in the drawer below the keyboard. Look inside."

Growling inwardly, Bowser walked around behind the desk and gingerly pulled the drawer open. A thick brown leather binder lay atop a stack of papers. "This? The brown one?"

His uncle gave a curt nod. Bowser flipped it open.

"'Doctor Elvin Gadd'? Tech developer?"

It was an obituary. He exhaled sharply and began to read; long list of accomplishments, this guy. Tons of patents, several of them related to kart and stock car racing... "He engineered Rosalina's design of the Rainbow Road vacuum?"

"The one and only," Saulus muttered, fetching a crystal decanter set from the refrigerated cabinet next to him. He poured the deep red contents of the chilled decanter into a matching glass. "They found his body last week in one of his labs. Poisoned."

Bowser winced. _That_ sure as hell had not shown up on the news. "Yeah? You knew this was going to happen, didn't you? Wanted me to get help from him before he passed away, huh?"

"I had my suspicions," the king replied, grimacing. "Unfortunately, by the time I could get Dry Bones to fess up to his recent business, it was too late. By some cruel twist of fate, I suppose, he is now rapidly approaching his position to strike once again."

Bowser rolled his eyes, placing the folder back inside the desk drawer. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The king drank wordlessly. Frustrated, Bowser collapsed into the chair next to him. Why all of this? Why now? Why _him?_

"Okay, different question. What was it you wanted me to get from that Gadd guy? I take it he wouldn't have tried to put my team on his own payroll?"

"He would have helped you," the king murmured. "Would've been a great aid in keeping you out of Dry Bones' clutches; moot point now. More importantly, he would have been a friend...and a good one. I know I see you rarely what with all of the work I have here, and sending you all the money in the world can't replace having your uncle around. Kamek bolted sooner than I had expected, I must admit."

_Give me a break_. Bowser closed his eyes, sinking deeper into the chair. _You've gotta be the last person on the planet invested in my health. _He resisted the urge to begin hurling things through the huge window behind him. _And now your friend's dead. Look at your life, you sick—_

"Regardless of whether you believe me or not, the option now no longer exists. He was a dear friend and did leave me some items in his will that I wish to pass on to you. You and your friends will most likely appreciate the extra security...but you must promise to never let them fall into the hands of Dry Bones, or his associates."

"Why trust me with something so important? It sounds like they need to be kept under armed guard instead of handed to some..." _Hold the phone. _"Wait. Why are you keeping stuff from him? Isn't he under your control by now?"

Saulus laughed. "I was hoping you'd notice, Rex. Though I suppose you could say that I owe him now. He will be in quite a fix with Gadd gone. Without Gadd's inventions bolstering his R&D department, he's going to have a difficult time justifying the amount of money he keeps requesting from the Council."

"Yeah? That why you killed him? The screw with the—arrgh!" Bowser realized he had gone too far when a split second later he found himself pinned to the window, his uncle's fist clamped around his throat. Spluttering madly, he struggled with all of his strength to break free, but all of his writhing proved to no avail.

_How the hell is he this strong?_

"I did _not_ kill Gadd," the king snarled, his deep golden eyes finally meeting his nephew's for the first time. They occasionally flickered red as he spoke, wildfires consuming anything within reach. "You can insult anything I've done, any mistake I've made, any failure of mine you can find. But _do not _mistake me for some trigger-happy thug. I never need to commit murder to achieve my goals. Gadd was a friend. He should not have died, not like this. Show some respect." He released his grip; Bowser crumpled to the ground, gasping madly for air.

"If you...ugh...say so..." Bowser clutched the armrest of the couch to pull himself to his feet. _He knocked the goddamn wind right out of me._

Saulus sniffed and poured a second glass of the decanter's contents. "Here. It's just sangria."

"Thanks." Bowser downed it in one gulp. Spicy...tangy...sweet. There. He poured himself another cupful.

His uncle leered at him, brows furrowed. "Do you really want definitive proof? Because you were with me the whole time which autopsy confirmed him to have been hit. You were with all of us. For several hours, if I recall."

_That __reception_. Still, Bowser did not give in that easily. Even though all five of his uncle's group had been present at the Tower, what else were hoards of Shy Guys good for? Speedy, stealthy, effective. Obedient. Nonetheless, he made a show of nodding in agreement.

The king raised an eyebrow. "It seems we're more alike than I had expected."

Bowser returned the glass to its tray, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're telling me."

"Hmph." Saulus gestured toward a long white box on the end table next to him. "The contents of that package are for you. Make of them what you will."

Bowser helped himself to the parcel. Inside lay an oversized paintbrush, a set of keys, and a sealed envelope. Bowser tore the latter open and inspected its contents—a single line of text on a small scrap of paper.

_Mach 6 Garage, bay 064._

"Gadd... had a garage?"

"I have no idea," the king replied between sips. "Is that what that paper says?"

"Yeah. Guess it's what the keys are for. You didn't know that?"

"Not at all. It was the box he left for me, but I never opened it."

"Oh. Okay." He lifted up the disproportionately heavy paintbrush. It felt more like a scepter than an art tool. "What's this?"

"That brush? Depends on the user, if his words were to be believed."

"Huh." Bowser thumbed its bristles, sketched invisible lines on his hand, sliced through the air with it. Nothing. "You don't have any paint around, do you?"

"Not paint, but I believe an inkwell, in the cabinet below the fax machine."

"Okay, I got it." Bowser zipped across the room—nuts, how something as small as a morbid midsummer Christmas following a near-death experience could change his mood—and found the small jar of blue ink. He plunged the paintbrush in, swirled it around for a bit, and drew it out—again, nothing. "It's repelling the ink. The hell?"

Giga-Bowser laughed from his chair but gave no answer.

"This what you meant by 'security'? Feels more like a joke." His voice broke halfway through as he remembered that he had no desire to anger the king twice in a row.

"Oh, I know what it does. But it is something you'll have to figure out on your own, and that's all I can tell you about it."

Darling. Bowser placed the brush, keys, and note back inside the box and poured himself another sangria, slowly becoming aware of his own exhaustion. An All-Cup race was an All-Cup race, even if only the second of sixteen. He needed to recharge.

After several minutes of silence, his uncle spoke. "Was Dry Bones honest in telling me you'd refused to let him sponsor your team in any way?"

"Check my bank statement if you have to. All I got from him was Toadette. Nothing else except about three hundred fucking phone calls. I don't care if he's your friend or not. He's annoying as shit."

"Intriguing," the king laughed. "One would think he'd have tried harder."

Bowser shrugged. "Last time I really talked to him he was making it sound like I'd made the worst decision of my life. Could have almost passed for a threat. Can't really remember."

"A threat? To you? _Very_ intriguing."

"How come he wants me so bad?" _Assuming he's not plotting something with you?_

"I cannot say at this time. He's become quite the loose cannon in our group, though now that I think about it he might not be the worst. Should his assistant have to choose between him and her husband, I cannot honestly predict which side she'd pick."

Comforting. "Red Bones? The one whose wedding you made me go to?"

"That one. I'm still uncertain how much of his power she's tasted."

"Whose power? Dry Bones' or Dark Bones'? And why is she important?"

"Both. Because two-on-two makes for a better show than one-on-one. Isn't that the premise of this whole damn sport?"

Bowser laughed through his nose, finally giving up on his endeavor to pick up any more political dirt. Things could only go downhill from here at the rate his uncle was consuming sangria.

The king shook his head. "Go home, kid. And good luck tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? We don't have another race until the weeke—"

"The Gala, you idiot. You're going to have to make an appearance thanks to our spectacle after the opening ceremony. White tie."

"Christ." He grabbed the box and stood up.

"As I said before, good luck."

"Thanks."

He made it all the way to his parked truck before finally realizing what exactly he had just survived.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

So many _stars_.

Junieo loved Mushroom Bridge. The world could laugh all it wanted, but in a way the place reminded him of Toad. Healthy, charming, and the bearer of such a positive outlook in spite of the possible horrors that lurked within.

He jumped slightly at the sound of the screen door sliding open behind him. _Talk of the devil._ Toad plopped down onto the concrete floor beside him.

"Did I wake you?" And he had been so careful to maintain perfect silence!

"Nah. Whoever just walked back into the guys' room did." _Oh._

Junieo nodded. "Wonder where the hell Bow went. He was out for over an hour."

"Really? Were you awake the whole time?"

He nodded again. "Heard him answer a phone call. He slammed the door a minute later." The slightest of breezes graced his bare shoulders, just enough to keep the air from growing muggy. Summer was his favorite time of year. No need for extra clothes just to maintain basic body temperature. The other seasons were unbearable in comparison; for some reason he always seemed to feel much colder than his friends.

_Am I cold-blooded_?

It was certainly not the first time he'd wondered. And not just about himself.

Toad smirked. "Man, what would he do without you stalking him?"

"Psh. How am I stalking him? We're practically living together and he woke me up!"

"Yeah, yeah. Like this was the first time."

"You jealous or what?"

"You _wish."_

They cracked up in unison.

"Hey...Toad?"

"Huh?"

Junieo hesitated for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "If...if you get into Subcon..."

"_When_ I get into Subcon. I'm one of the ten best students in the country just by paperwork. No worries there." The blonde boy laughed, running his tongue over his lower lip.

"Okay. _When_ you get into Subcon, c'we keep living together?"

Toad ruffled his hair. "Of course! I wasn't even gonna ask you. You seriously don't have a choice in the matter."

"Pfft. For real, though? Would they let freshmen live off campus? Or let me stay in your dorm?" Not the largest of possibilities.

"If not, they'll just have to make an exception for me."

Junieo rarely wished to be Toad. He far preferred the privilege of witnessing him from an outside perspective, always marveling at his friend's thoughtful nature and nurturing spirit—but in this case he could not quite help it. Upon occasion he came off as so confident, so self-assured, it was nearly unnerving. "Good. You have no idea how much I want to move to the desert. I wanna go landsailing. Get a pet lizard. Or five or six."

"Hell yeah. Lizards running around all over the house. They could attack burglars...sunbathe on rocks with you..."

Sunbathing sounded amazing. Junieo would not mind trading places with one of his future pet lizards for a few hours. "Sounds like a plan."

"Well, we have one more year. They should get back to me around December so we can start checking out apartments spring semester."

"Then let me cover rent for a while. Subcon's no picnic and you shouldn't have to worry about utilities and shit while studying."

Toad scoffed. "You sound like my mom. Fifty-fifty, and no more for you. Hell, I wouldn't even be paying for my half. But save up your money, Baby. Let them pay for as much as they offer. It's all they're good for anymore."

Hearing his friend talk that way never failed to break Junieo's heart. The subject of Toad's parents felt like a hideous stain on their conversations; he had stigmatized the idea of them so much in the past few years it had become impossible to envision them in any kind of positive light. Still, Junieo said nothing. No matter how much he tried to help Toad through this mess, the kid refused to budge. Like a damn tank.

"How would we move your furniture? The Challenger isn't exactly a Mack truck."

Junieo laughed. "Good point. Maybe rent a trailer bed. Hey, I bet Bow would help out. His truck's nothing to sniff at."

"Like let us borrow his truck? I dunno, man..."

"He could come with us. I could bribe him with food or something. He'd totally do it. He gets crabby when we go too long without doing a road trip anyways. All-Cup at the beginning of the summer, desert trek at the end. No worries."

"Ha. Guess you're right."

Toad yawned, stretching toward the sky. "Gonna head back in. I can't believe you're not tired."

"I'm tired, I'm tired. Don't get me wrong." But his mind would not let him sleep. Questions beckoned, too many for him to fight alone. He nearly wished Toad would stay with him, would remain vigilant in spite of his exhaustion. But Junieo prided himself on his selflessness. Ironic.

"Night, Baby," Toad whispered.

"Night."

With more room now, Junieo could stretch out on the floor. His thoughts, unbridled, floated up to the stars above. They belonged there! Not bouncing around inside his mind. Pain in the ass, at least figuratively.

"So you were listening," Bowser's gruff tones drifted over from the adjacent balcony. "What'd you hear?"

"I heard the phone buzz, but nothing distinguishable afterward. You left so quickly, like...like you didn't need to change. Were you expecting that call?" _Maybe I _am_ a stalker..._

He heard a deep sigh. "I don't know. I guess I wasn't expecting him specifically."

Junieo knew without having to look that Bowser was stretched out on his balcony, practically a reflection of Junieo in an imaginary mirror. This was how it had always been between the two of them—for all intents and purposes, the same. Same item, same appearance, same inexplicable charisma—haha, kidding. Right? Right?

No. It was no coincidence.

"You went to the palace, right?"

"Yeah."

It was the stuff of insanity to think that he was now speaking to the heir to the Mushroom Kingdom throne. Hell, it was _Bowser_. The guy who had found him dying in an alleyway after a brutal kart crash. The same high school senior who had forced him nearly under threat of violence to try out for the MCHS's karting team. The brooding, wisecracking pro racer who had asked him and Toad to join a team he'd been meaning to start up for that winter's All-Cup. A hero to him, and a sore sight for so many others. But for better or worse, Junieo was astute. He noticed things others ignored whether by choice or coincidence. Bowser always kept himself guarded. He had taken care to disguise it, as huge and complex as it was. But it existed nonetheless, indicating something Bowser had felt a need to hide, to protect.

And Junieo had a hunch as to what that might be. Hey, it was worth a shot.

"Bowser...what's it like? Having that power, I mean."

His fellow redhead gave a hoarse laugh. "Power? What power? The tasks of the royal heir are so ill-defined I can't even—"

"No. Not that." Had Bowser made an honest mistake? Or had that been deliberate? Junieo feared he would never know the truth.

Bowser snorted. "Then what?"

Junieo took a deep breath. "Back at that festival a few weeks ago. I mean, just look out over this balcony. You can practically see the fairgrounds from here. Remember when you showed up late, and when we all saw that firebender dancing...?"

Silence. Surely Bowser knew to what he was referring. This wasn't the kind of thing one's mind lazily skipped over in search of cooler memories.

"What? I really don't remember that festival. Yeah, I remember getting Rosalina's necklace at that jewelry stand, and then winning Toadette that huge stuffed Totoro—"

"Come on. Right before then. The firebender? Your eyes changed color and his fire rushed at you and engulfed you?" _Who the hell forgets something like that?_

No immediate response. He squeezed his eyes shut, listening for a change in Bowser's breathing, his heart rate, anything—

"What are you talking about?"

_Holy cow._ Junieo rolled up into a sitting position and faced the other balcony, straining his eyes to make out Bowser's form in the darkness. "How can you not remember that? It was the coolest thing I'd ever seen! And you were so relaxed about it, too, just looking at him—"

"You sure that firebender wasn't just doing tricks? How much were you drinking that night?"

"Oh, come on! I didn't even get buzzed that night. Daisy made sure of it. Everyone else saw it, too! You can ask them! The guy kinda freaked out and immediately retracted the flames, but they kept swirling around you, and turned gold and white, and..." Junieo stopped to catch his breath.

_No way. Toad saw it too. So did Daisy and Wally and Toadette and—and everyone—why?_

Did he honestly not...know?

"Please, Bow. Ask someone else in the morning. I'm not lying, I'm not crazy—"

"Okay, okay, I will. Lord."

Junieo nearly felt like pouting. This was totally not how he'd wanted the conversation to go. "Well, if you remember it, can you tell me? What it felt like?"

"Yeah. If I remember. I swear."

It would have to do. Junieo hugged his knees to his chest, suddenly in deep want of a blanket or robe. Fucking oversensitive nerves. _No one should ever feel this cold this far into summer._

"Baby?"

"Yes?"

"Take it."

_A gift?_ Junieo crawled to the edge of the balcony and took the baton-like instrument from Bowser's outstretched hand. No, not a baton. "What'm I supposed to do with a paint brush?" And a heavy one, at that. Was it made of solid stone, or what?

"Hell if I know. Figure it out for me."

"But where'd you _get_ this?"

"It's... from a strange old man in a white coat," Bowser replied, his voice clearly beginning to drift. "Present for you."

Junieo turned the tool about in his hands. "All...right, then. Get some sleep, Bow. Gala's tomorrow night. Daisy says you aren't allowed to skip, so she's making you try on suits until she's happy." In cases like this, Bowser was another person he rarely envied.

"The fucking Gala. Like I give a shit anyway."

"You know you're excited," Junieo laughed, shaking his head. "Hey, I'm excited for you. G'night." All but shivering at this point, he quietly slid the balcony door open and crept back into bed.

_I'd kill for an electric blanket right now._

He nearly jumped out of bed when he felt a most curious sensation over his legs—as if someone had thrown a thick sheet over him, though with the street lights shining through the window he could tell that everyone else in the room was clearly still asleep. But the jolt of energy passed just as quickly as it had arrived, and he felt the late hour beginning to tug at his consciousness.

It had been a long day. But was it just his imagination, or had his wish just come true?

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

And yet again, sorry for the ridiculous delay between updates. My laptop was destroyed right before finals and honestly this fic was the least of my worries at that time.

If you guys have any thoughts or comments please leave a review! Much appreciated.


	16. Kingfin Bones

HERE EVERYONE HAVE A BIG CHAPTER. 3000 EXTRA WORDS' WORTH OF SHIT GOING DOWN. It's like deriving except with K-names instead of numbers! Just what everyone wanted, right? Right? 8D

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Fifteen

"C'mon, Bow! The ship's gotta leave by exactly one p.m. to reach Isle Delfino by midnight! That leaves us with ONLY FOUR HOURS to somehow get you into a custom-tailored full-length formal coat!"

Bowser squinted, as though not sure whether to wince or laugh. "You're... kidding."

"When do I ever joke about _clothes,_ Bowser? WHEN?" Daisy crushed her coke can into smithereens before hurling it into a trash bin with a hopefully satisfying _THUNK._

"Touché."

Toadette did not envy Bowser. Not right now. The guy was definitely not a morning person to begin with, and shopping with Daisy this early truly only added insult to injury.

"You're lucky you already have your winter stuff for when we race in Sherbet Land, or I'd have had to send you to that ski shop with the others way before now. Poor Toadette has to get both a down coat _and_ an evening ensemble, I hope you know."

"I know how to shop though," Toadette laughed. "You have taught me well, master. Watch me nail this in no time. I can bring you guys food if you're still stuck in there."

_Please_, Bowser mouthed to her. Toadette bit her lip appreciatively, having learned by now that Daisy was more than willing to deny Bow food for the sake of properly-fitted clothing.

"For someone of your height? Do not speak too soon, grasshopper. The world of fashion can be cruel to those whose figures don't fall within the average. If we can get something not too long on you and not too small for King Bowser over here, it will take more than a miracle. It will take..." She came to an abrupt halt and nodded at the boutique to their immediate right. "_Toadles'_."

"Seriously?" Bowser had clearly already spotted one too many a sparkle for his tastes. Toadette laughed inwardly.

"Relax! He's going to get you something that suits you, I promise. Nothing frilly. Except for Toadette. Toadette will take any and all frills. Am I right?"

"You got it!"

The girls each grabbed one of his hands and for all intents and purposes dragged the redhead in.

As Toadette had predicted, the portly shop attendant had pounced upon her at once and managed to pull just the right sized gown from boutique's exquisite selection. White with all manners of pink and silver trim, it would ordinarily have served as an elegant Quinceañera gown for someone just a tad taller than her, but the man promised he could nip in the hemline and have it delivered to the cruise ship before it cast off. All this in just over an hour.

No time to waste, though. Toadette marched forward, focusing on winter. On cold. Snow. Ice.

Had she ever seen snow? On television, yes, but not in real life. Not from what she could—could remember.

It stung a little. That word. How little it meant.

"No." She shook her head and continued walking. "Focus, Toadette!"

Boom. _Yuki-chan's Kids Outdoor Wonderland Magic._ And what could have passed for a giant pink marshmallow with fat white polka dots danced in the window, just for her. As jackets went, if that one could not keep her warm, then nothing would.

Inside the store proper she went ahead and procured matching white feaux-fur gloves and heart-shaped ear muffs for herself. After years and years of standard-issue gray and black, it took little to persuade her to dress like someone a third of her age. Perhaps as time passed, she would grow out of it and pick designs more mature, more subtle, more elegant. But for the moment, her inner six-year-old demanded retribution.

"Your daddy give you some spending money, huh, honey?" the cashier giggled as she scanned Toadette's purchases.

"You could say that." Bowser had indeed loaded up an ATM card just for her. By that point she had learned not to ask where any of it came from.

"Well, doesn't he just have the cutest daughter of all time? Have a great day."

As she left the shop it took everything in Toadette's power not to jump into the air and skip in circles around the mall for the rest of the day. _I'm CUTE! Hear that? Suck it! Gwahahaha!_

She squeezed her eyes shut, clutching her enormous shopping bag to her chest in a tight hug. Seconds later she felt an impact, though not rough or painful; she had bumped into someone in her excitement. "Whoa!"

"Sorry 'bout that, ma'am—"

"_Toadette?_"

Toadette stopped in her tracks and did a double-take.

"R-Red_?_"

"Toadette, it's so wonderful to run into you here!" After snapping her cell phone shut, the redheaded woman Toadette had collided with pulled her into the slightest, most gentle hug she had possibly ever received. "Doing some shopping? Myself as well, dear. Not that I could have mentioned it in the labs, of course, but Vivienne just opened a new boutique here and I could not but help myself..." Sure enough, two large rose-colored bags stamped with gold Westwood logos dangled from her jeweled fingertips. "But enough of my blabbing. How is the All-Cup going for you? We're just so _proud_ of you, dear!"

"It's—it's great—" Toadette gave up and closed in for another, tighter hug. Red was relatively petite but still seemed to tower over her regardless. "I missed you!"

"Oh, my dear," she laughed, patting Toadette on the head. "Myself as well. Do you have time to chat? There's a Starbeans right here—"

"That sounds great! What time is it?" Toadette glanced around for a clock. Surely she had time. _Please_—_it feels like it's been so long—_

"Toadette!" yet another voice called. Though largely unrecognizable, this one sounded just familiar enough for Toadette to not brush off.

"Huh? Who was that…?" Her jaw nearly dropped in surprise at the next person to approach her.

It was Rosalina's partner, the Luma kid. He immediately cantered up and grabbed her one free hand. "Come on, we're gonna be _late_."

She blinked, taken aback. _What the hell is going on?_ "Late?"

He nodded slowly, his sparkling black eyes focusing all too sharply on hers. "You know. It's almost noon. We gotta go."

She pursed her lips but no words would form aloud. _What are you playing at?_

"Oh, don't let me hold you up, Toadette!" Red piped, her hands flying up at once. "I'll catch up with you later, yes? Ta-ta, now!"

"Red?—wait—!"

She was gone, once again indistinguishable from the throngs of shoppers. _Damn it..._

"That was close. C'mon." Something soft and warm slid into her palm; he had grabbed her hand, but not to hold her back from chasing Red, not with that weak of a grasp. This was gentle, and entirely too comfortable for a kid to whom she had only spoken perhaps once, or twice.

Toadette quickly withdrew her hand. "Why'd you do that? What if I never see her again? I don't live in this town, you know!"

He turned on the spot to face her, his jaw clamped shut. His eyes seemed to search her, as though waiting for her to catch on to some grand inside joke.

"What? I'm not supposed to say hi to her? Did Rosalina send you to follow me around?"

"Not you." He smiled as he spoke, and Toadette almost followed suit until she remembered she was mad at him. _This kid..._

"Hmph. Well thanks a lot." _Way to ruin what could have been the greatest day of all time._ Toadette pulled out her phone and continued to walk back toward the shopping center's entrance. Bowser was probably hungry by now. She figured it was safe to assume getting measured for a suit was not high on his list of favorite pastimes.

"Why are you following me?" she hissed at the Luma kid. Though his footfalls were practically inaudible what with the din of the mall around them, she could still somehow sense his presence as he pranced just behind her.

"Lee."

"...What?"

"Luma Lee! Call me Lee."

Toadette released an exasperated sigh. "Jeez... Lee, huh? If you're supposed to be stalking someone else, why don't you go do that now?"

"No need," he chirped. "We're both going to the same place anyways, yeah?"

"You mean the ship? No, I'm trying to see if Bowser wants me to bring him—" Her cell phone buzzed right on time, the lights in its pink mushroom charm blinking from behind many white polka dots. _I don't need food,_ he had eloquently replied. _I __need aspirin and a restraining order._"Well, that sounds like it's going well."

Lee cocked his head but continued to keep pace for pace with her.

"Never mind. Are you gonna tell me why you're here or not?"

Cue the kid to begin blushing madly. His face practically turned purple. _So much for getting a straight answer out of this guy._

Toadette raised an eyebrow. "What a great conversationalist. Remind me to never date you. Statutory issues aside."

It was as though she'd slapped him in the face. Lee stopped dead in his tracks, so blatantly crestfallen that Toadette began to wonder if she'd said something horrifying in his native language. "What? Hey...you okay?"

He blinked a few times, repeatedly opening and closing his mouth, before finally mustering up enough muscle control to utter a single word. "_Never_?"

It took a few seconds for it to click, and then it took every ounce of Toadette's strength to not fall over in laughter. She covered her mouth with one fist, composing herself. "Uh...well...I mean, at the rate you're going..."

"I'm sorry! Polari's not going with her this year because _I don't know why_ and he passed his invitation to me and I don't know who else to ask but I figure since your partner's going you wouldn't wanna be left out and I honestly didn't think this up until two minutes ago when I spotted you with that scientist but—"

"Okay, _slow down_." Toadette motioned for him to breathe. "I heard like one word out of that, and I don't know what a Polari is."

"Can you be my d-date for the Gala?" Lee stammered, pulling a small ivory envelope from the front pocket of his plaid pea coat. It only served to demonstrate just how violently his hands were shaking.

_Did I hear that right_? Toadette swallowed, gathering herself. "You mean the one tonight? How come you're going?"

"Normally Mama-san gets two invitations," he explained, and slowly at that. _Kid's a good listener, I'll admit._ "One for her and one for Polari. He's not going and he won't tell me why. He might be mad at her. It's tough to tell with h—anyways!" He took a deep breath. "He gave me his invitation and told me to find a date. So that's why I'm here. At...at the mall. Trying to find someone willing to go on a cruise ship to Isle Delfino and...somehow...yeah, I didn't really think it out. But then I saw you! You're going to be on the ship anyway with the other racers, right? Will you go?"

"I had my own Gala invitation," she replied carefully. "Bowser got two invites and he gave me the other one."

Lee froze. "You're going with him? Your partner?"

"Uh..." That was where it got complicated. _I _was _planning on trying to get him and_your_partner to do something together there, but_... "Not...not really. Either way I'll be there."

He brightened up immediately. "So you'll be my date?"

"Y-yeah. Why not." Hell, maybe he could help her out. "So this Polari guy isn't going...but Rosalina is? By herself?"

"YES! If you had any idea how happy I—oh, Mama-san? Let me try to remember." Lee puffed out his cheeks in thought. It was so unbelievably cute that Toadette nearly melted. Who _was_ this guy? Was he conning her? Or was sheer adorableness simply inherent with Lumas? "I'm not entirely sure. I just know Polari's not going with her, so it's pretty likely."

"_Excellent_. We're getting Icicle Pops and we are going to chat." Toadette grabbed his hand and began marching toward a _Zess T's Snow Bunny_ stand.

"_Icicle pops? _I _like_ Icicle Pops! With extra honey!" Lee ran his tongue over his lips, clearly unable to contain his joy as she tugged him along.

Toadette had to laugh. This would be a success yet.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Rosalina tried to relax. Truly, she tried. Were it for any other event, she could not have imagined otherwise; Lee's many brothers and sisters fawned over her, painting her nails, washing and combing out her hair, debating in a excited hush which pins and jewels would match which of her ambassador-style evening gowns. Furthermore the fountain was easily the most peaceful room on the Observatory by far; the lapping of its many waterfalls echoed gently off the sleek white and blue mosaics coating its walls and floor.

And yet the gnawing feeling refused to subside. All of the denial in the world could not erase the facts.

_You did hack those accounts, did you not? _

_And what if I did?_

_Then I can finally relax,_ Saulus had laughed. _I had bet far too heavily for my own good on the assumption that you had done so. And of course, that means something coming from me. __But... you already know that, don't you, Rosalina?_

Two soft knocks came from the doorway. "Are you decent in there?"

"For now," she muttered. "Come in."

"Video message," Polari piped as he stepped jauntily into the fountain dome. "Should I tell them to call back when you're not...preoccupied? Or shall I take a message?"

"Who's it from?" In her most comic of situations thus far, Rosalina literally could not turn her head while in the salon chair.

"Your favorite," he replied. She could practically hear him winking if it were possible. Wretch.

"I'll get back to him later. He'll be at the Gala, regardless."

"Of course. And I would like to have a quick word with you before your date picks you up. This and that and so forth."

Rosalina inhaled sharply. _Please, no! _"You were serious about not even coming with us to the port? Surely they'll make an excep—"

"Oh, no. I refuse to be the third wheel on this particular evening," he laughed, though Rosalina could not help but pick up on a twinge of repressed sadness somewhere in there. "In any case, I too have my own agenda. What's a game without a few sidequests, eh?"

"Hmph. Don't make me call you thirty minutes in. I'm going to need a diversion if I want to survive tonight unscathed."

"But of course. You know how unpredictable Lee can be."

Rosalina pondered Polari's words as soon as he left the dome, though not for long. Lee's face immediately filled her narrow view, so abruptly as to nearly give her a heart attack. "Have you seen the news?"

"About Gadd? Unfortunately. He was a wonderful man. While not in his prime, I'd daresay he was cut short far too many a year."

"Think it was Ezekiel?"

Rosalina sighed. "We need more information first. No jumping to conclusions. And why ask about them first? There are plenty of other—"

"Toadette almost walked off with Red Bones this morning. You can thank me later."

She felt the blood drain from her face. "Red—then—you stopped her? Thank goodness. It's unsafe for the girl at this time. I can't believe Bowser would have just let her—"

"She was by herself. Aren't you happy you let me scope the mall out now?"

_Oh, heavens._ What if Lee had not been there? Rosalina hated winning by sheer luck. It always meant something had gone horribly wrong in her plan. "Happier than you may ever know. I would get up to kiss you but my scalp is being held hostage at the moment."

Lee giggled. "I'll hold you to that. You would've laughed at me if you'd seen how I acted when I asked her to the Gala. _Never_ felt like such a dork in all my twenty-two years. Honest."

"Well, I hope you two have fun at the Gala." Why on earth would Bowser have let Toadette walk around in a foreign city alone? For any other person it would have been much more reasonable, but... "Then I suppose he's going without a date."

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Bowser spent most of the afternoon unconscious. Granted, the sea view was indeed nice and he had almost as much interest in checking out his crazy cruise suite as the rest of his team, but after nearly four hours of Daisy's and the suit-tailor's nit-picking he had about had it.

Nonetheless the sun eventually set and Luigi shook him awake.

"The girls said they'd be dressed by eight. Ready for this?" It had been so long since Bowser had seen Luigi in something other than overalls that it took him a few seconds to match the speaker to the words.

"Uh. Okay. Yeah." He blinked a few times. "Nice tails." Thank god Daisy had found him a relatively normal-looking coat with a square cut. The last thing he needed was to look like a cartoon character in front of these people. No offense to Louie.

"Had these for a long time. Used to be my grandpa's. You're lucky that the Kingdom's national costume or whatever is that kind of coat or you'd've probably had to wear them, too. At least it'll only be for a few hours."

Bowser shrugged, pulling the crisp black shirt from its multiple layers of packaging. "Be done changing in a bit. What floor's this thing s'pposed to be on?"

"Just belowdecks I think. Whatever floor is under the pool."

"'Kay." He continued changing in solitude. In lieu of finishing with an actual white tie around his neck, it was apparently a Kerog custom to wear a sort of cutoff breastplate made of thick black quilted fabric that covered the length of his neck and shoulders, tapering off at points into elegant golden chains that draped from his chest and back to the sides of his upper arms.

Just as he had finished pulling on his coat and leather shoes, Luigi knocked on his door. "Hey, you got a package."

"For real? C'min."

"Shy Guy delivered," he explained as Bowser opened the small black box. Three small gold-trimmed garnets lay inside, each connected by several strands of impossibly thin golden chains harkening to the style of his shoulder garment. He shrugged and smoothed his hair back before donning them.

"Nice, Bowser."

"Thanks, man. The girls ready yet?"

"We're reeeaaady," Daisy called from outside as if on cue.

"Welp. Let's get this over with."

Daisy looked resplendent in her yellow gown. Bowser had only seen it once, perhaps twice before. Baby and Toad made a racket attempting to set them up for an impromptu group photo before a short glare from Bowser shut them down. Luigi made a dramatic bow before taking Daisy's arm. Grinning madly, Bowser nearly followed suit when Toadette glared at him and he froze mid-sweep. "You're _not_ my escort, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. You sweet on this kid or what?"

"Bowser…"

To his surprise, Toadette looked far from embarrassed at his comment—just annoyed. _If you don't care about him, then what's the fuss all about? _"Just saying! Don't know what the big deal is here." He laughed and held the door open for her, bidding a wistful farewell to the others. "So When's this thing supposed to hit shore?"

"They're thinking around eleven tonight," Koopa informed him. "You gonna be up for our usual spot at midnight?"

"Hell yeah. After tonight I'mma wanna get shitfaced."

"Sorry, man. Good luck out there. Take photos, yeah?"

"Fuck that. See ya."

They trooped up to the ballroom level. Bowser was not unfamiliar with the cruiser as the FBR liked to use the same model every year to transport the racers and select lucky fans alike. He also imagined it was a hell of a lot cheaper than running the mach six garage to every offshore locale in the league. Though he had nearly memorized by now the locations of the pool, gyms, and dining areas, he had never before received an invite to the Gala. He realized that he had been here multiple times before, however; kart races on the boat itself always drove straight through here. Heh.

Just outside the ballroom's entrance hall, a familiar display greeted them. Heaps of brass tablets lined the rounded mahogany edges of the glass case containing the enormous All-Cup trophy, gleaming at them in the candlelight.

"Are these what I think they are?" Toadette asked, tugging his sleeve. "All these names?"

"They're the records of every kart and driver that won the All-Cup since its inception," Bowser explained. "Two per year. You can see where they changed the regulations to two-person karts here..."

"Yeah! These are your parents, right?" Toadette pointed to a section near the end. _Rex and April Kerog_ gleamed at them, four times in immediate succession and seven in various spots beforehand.

Bowser nodded. "Yeah. That's them."

Toadette squeezed his hand. After a moment of silence they continued past the stone monument toward the guest entrance to the ballroom.

"Invitations?" a single Shy Guy asked, halting them at an enormous pair of brass doors. Bowser and Toadette handed in their envelopes. "Proceed, and welcome to the All-Cup Gala."

"After you." Bowser guided Toadette in, keeping one hand gently on her shoulder. "See your date anywhere?"

"How can I? He's not that much taller than me, remember?"

Bowser laughed through his nose. "I'll keep a look out, then. Something tells me Rosalina isn't staying on this ship, so if the kid's arriving with her then they probably aren't here yet."

"Rosalina's not on the ship? How come?"

"I don't know for sure, but she's still working full-time, remember? They'll probably just sling her down from the Observatory in time for races and events like these. Gotta have all this scheduled way in advance. Though the kid might be staying onboard if what you said was true, though."

"Hrmm. Then maybe she could do with a little spontaneity, don'tcha think?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hey, I know you're thinking it too!"

Bowser shook his head. "Give it up, Toadette. There's no way anything we would do would work out well. You know it."

Toadette was quite visibly disappointed. Nonetheless she pulled him by hand toward the rows of elaborate vendor booths taking up most of the ballroom floor. "I thought this would be a party! How come all these stands are set up?"

"The Gala's really just a glorified sales pitch opportunity for a bunch of karting companies. I think there's a silent auction somewhere, too. But it's not completely about buying stuff. I mean, once you're in, free drinks and dancing. Except it's fucking ballroom style and I'd rather hang myself than waste my time learning fancy-ass crap like that."

"You don't exactly strike me as a ballroom dancer anyways," Toadette laughed.

"Eh. If I really wanted to get laid I can pull a move or two in one of my usual Delfino spots. Just because I'm enormous doesn't mean I'm not—"

"Bowser! Good to see you." He felt a hand clap his back.

"Hey. Looking sharp."

Dark Bones had on an altogether minimalist ensemble, his shoulder guard fabric matte and nearly indistinguishable from his dead black coat; his vest bore no visible trimming or ornamentation save for his three Council medals. His silver-trimmed forehead emeralds mirrored Bowser's. "And yourself. Miss?" He extended a hand to Toadette.

"Oh...uh, Toadette! Pleased to meet you." She remembered her name last-second and gently placed her hand in the politician's.

"Charmed." He placed a light kiss on her fingers in a single motion Bowser could only describe as _smooth_. Though rapid and neat, it nearly knocked him off guard nonetheless, and he could not quite figure out why. "I'm guessing you've just arrived. Please, help yourself to any refreshments or drinks. The vendor booths will remain up all through dinner, but I believe around ten they'll be cleared off to allow for dancing, so check them out while you still can."

"Got it. When're they gonna serve the food?"

"Nine at the latest. If I'm not mistaken, Saulus put a table together for us all."

_Figures_. This would be the whole wedding scene over again. "Is Red here with you?"

"Yes, but I believe she's stuck at the FBR display for another twenty minutes or so. You should drop by. Say hi." His midnight black eyes glinted as he spoke, somehow simultaneously joyful and bellicose.

"I will." He bade Dark Bones a curt nod before turning away, continuing toward the vendor booths. "You okay? I didn't think guys still pulled moves like that this century."

"I've seen him before," Toadette murmured, her voice hushed. "I know I have."

Well, now. "Yeah? Where?"

"Trying to remember. But—Bowser—who was it that you asked was here?"

"Huh?"

"You...you asked that guy..."

"Oh. Right. His, uh, new wife's name is Red. I had to go to their wedding reception. You remember that day? Wasn't too long ago."

The look Toadette gave him then boggled his mind, a swirling cloud of shock, confusion, horror, and...hope?

"Whoa! Slow down!" She tore past him, plunging into the depths of finely-dressed guests, down the central and widest lane of stands, all decked in shimmering LED light signs and stunning holographic displays against the dim candlelight of the ballroom. _She just _had _to run off in the middle of a Disney acid sequence—_

"There's no way," he heard her breathe, somehow able to speed in front of him even in heels. "There's no way. It can't be a coincidence. It can't...it can't..."

The central and most grand of the booths, of course, bore a stunning _Federal Bureau of Racing Research & __Development_ sign overhead composed of orange and green holograms. A three-tiered stage underneath boasted new kart designs, tentative Items for future cups, and racer research reports of past experiments. Finely-suited spectators gasped, entranced, at the dozen or so high-definition and three-dimensional screens showing off the department's latest developments in motion.

Toadette leaned over the purple velvet rope and waved to one of the booth attendants. Bowser caught up with her just as Red Bones reached them, elegant as ever in a much longer purple gown than what she had worn at the reception nights ago.

"Toadette _and_ his royal Highness! Such a treat. How goes it, my dears?"

"Red! I thought I was never going to see you again after what happened earlier! You do advertising work for R&D as well as internal?"

"But of course," she laughed. "_Someone_ out here needs to be able to give these people accurate information when they ask. Let's just say I'm much nicer to deal with than my illustrious boss...unless he's the one after something, of course..."

"You can say that again," Bowser muttered, snatching a champagne flute from the tray of a passing waiter. "Can't believe they have you working so soon after a wedding, though. Do people just not do honeymoons anymore or what?"

"Ha. Well, I suppose you could say my office managed to turn my business trip into one long honeymoon of sorts. I'm on a cruise in the tropics, no?"

"I thought the point of a cruise was to get away from work," Toadette piped. "But whatever floats your boat."

"But of course. Honestly, Dark will take any time off he can get from those hardasses in the Council. Any second we get away from them feels like paradise."

"Sorry to hear. It doesn't look like anyone will want him out of office anytime soon, though." Bowser idly placed his hand on Toadette's shoulder, gazing around at the other guests. Quite a colorful lot. _Kingfin should be watching from somewhere up_ _there_, he thought upon spotting a wraparound balcony, largely coated in shadow, overhead. _Perfect sniping spot, huh._

"You can say that again! The others can moan all they want. He has those approval ratings for a reason." She laughed, shaking her head. "But tell me how you feel about the All-Cup! Of course, we're only two races in...but any feedback we can get will be greatly appreciated!"

"It's..." Bowser shrugged. "I might have nodded off for a bit in the second race. Whoever stuck that Chain Chomp in has a sick sense of humor, though. The Goombas I could handle fine."

"But of course. How does it feel to finally be in the All-Cup, Toadette? Just what you imagined?"

"Better!" she piped. "But tell the labs to increase their drifting training. Whoever thought a professional racer could get by without a lot of drifting experience was insane."

"Duly noted," Red Bones laughed. "We meant to increase our tactical regimens eons ago, but...oh, hello, sweetie! Anything I can help you with?"

Bowser glanced in the direction of Red's gaze. Sure enough, there stood the Luma kid he had always seen with Rosalina. "There's your date, Toadette."

"Hey." Toadette quickly looked from the Luma to Red and to him. "Red...are you going to be here the whole trip?"

"Of course, sweetheart," Red Bones replied, her green eyes sparkling in what Bowser uncomfortably felt could have been hunger. "I'm part of the staff touring along with you racers! We'll have plenty of time to catch up if you'd like to go enjoy the rest of the Gala, now. See you when they serve dinner!"

"Okay! We'll be back in a little bit, Bow." Off the two trotted, hands clasped. Bowser shook his head, bemused.

"Well, aren't those two adorable?" Red motioned for a passing Shy Guy to hand her a flute of Sky Juice.

"No clue where Toadette picked that kid up. Must've been after a race."

"Oh, you don't recognize him?"

Bowser gave a noncommittal shrug. He could not afford to let these people know exactly how close he was to Rosalina. That much he had understood ages ago. "He's one of the racers, isn't he?"

"Intriguing...but yes, yes he is. Team...Mario." She laughed softly. "You'll get to meet his partner when we all seat for dinner. She and Dark have known each other for quite some time. Through his Majesty, I assume."

"Alright, then." He grinned and swiped a another glass of champagne from a passing waiter, debating how long he could hold out. Rosalina wasn't stupid. She would not recognize him and likely spend the entire night coolly ignoring him.

But there was no reason for him to do the same. No reason at all. This could be fun yet. His smile widened and he downed the champagne in one gulp.

Red Bones giggled. "Looks like someone's here to party! Our Tower reception was a drag compared to this. Oh, who am I kidding, it was the best. You know it, you were there."

"I was there. Had a great time." Was chronic lying a symptom of increasingly strong connections with royalty? He could not doubt it at this rate.

"Yes! Great time. I knew Dark had good taste in acquaintances. You and your uncle are stellar, make no mistake. All the more of a tragedy for you to have lost your parents; I'm sure they were wonderful, wonderful people." She gently squeezed his shoulder.

Her words smarted in their own right. Bowser knew she meant well, or at least hoped; but she was not the person he wanted to hear speak these words. It was as though by sheer virtue of knowing his uncle that she had become tainted, without any chance of redemption. But he also had no way of proving her innocence. Too much leaned in the other direction.

"Oh, but please don't let me bring you down! I'm sure they're extremely proud of such a talented racer they have. Your skills on the road are impeccable, and I say this as a racing physics specialist."

"Thanks. I try."

"Ha! Like I've never heard that before. Trying is for fourth-placers. No, Bowser, you _perform_, and the time and energy you've spent studying and practicing and guiding your team is so blindingly obvious that sometimes I think people miss it when they look at you go."

"Seriously, you really don't have to—"

"Please! I'm just saying, it's why we entrusted Toadette to you. You think your wants and needs were the only ones we took into account?" She wriggled her eyebrows at him. "Toadette was the best we had, and so we made sure she went to the best we could find. She was my pride and joy...felt more like a little sister at times than a test volunteer. But when Karon told me who it was that was interested in our program, well—"

Red Bones' jaw had dropped mid-sentence; Bowser turned in place to see what had happened, and nearly followed suit.

"Oh, she looks _stunning_. They make a great couple, don't they?"

But speaking was an option far beyond Bowser's capabilities at the moment. He could only watch in both awe and horror as Rosalina, immaculate in a sparkling white and midnight blue ambassador gown, descended from the plush deck entrance, down the gilded stairs, onto the ballroom proper, linked arm-in-arm with Doctor Dry Bones.

"You should see the look on your face! Isn't she so much more gorgeous in person? Thank god she found an escort taller than her or I'd pity the fool."

Bowser pitied the fucking fool. But he could not stand there like an idiot for eternity. "Wow. Good thing she doesn't race in that or I'd wreck every five seconds." No fibbing necessary.

That made Red crack up. "Definitely! Her special ability is enough of a game-breaker as is. Karon should be checking up on this booth soon if you'd like to meet—"

"Actually, I need to go check in with my uncle," Bowser lied, dropping his two empty flutes onto a passing tray. Whoever this Karon person was surely did not wish to meet someone liable to accidentally vomit on him. "But I'll see you again in a bit, yeah?"

"Of course. We'll all be at the central table up there on the dias. Make sure you're still around for the toast beforehand!" She winked before returning to the booth's other visitors.

Bowser retreated upstairs as quickly as he could manage. Hopefully neither of them had noticed him yet; now cloaked by the darkness of the balcony, he could watch the revels underneath unbothered. He spotted Daisy within a few minutes; two couples, likely Sarasaland dignitaries, had engaged her in conversation. He could pick out her bullshit-mode expressions and gestures from miles away.

Now…where…? After further scrutiny, he could finally pick out Rosalina's location, if only thanks to Toadette's vivid pink hair sticking out from the throngs of people around them. She and what's-his-name…Lee?...had dashed up to Rosalina immediately.

What a scene to view effectively in silence. Dry Bones picked her out first, giving a gentle wave with the one arm not wrapped around Rosalina's waist. Toadette halted ever so slightly, but then curtsied and clasped hands with Rosalina.

Interesting. Bowser could not quite make out anyone's expression from his vantage point. The only one not making any visible chatter was Lee. Dry Bones pat Toadette on the head once, twice, three times. _God, I need to smoke_.

"Taking a break?"

Bowser nearly jumped at his uncle's voice. _Did he overhear what I told Red? _"Hey. Great party."

"If only you knew how much it means to me that you're here," he sighed. Kingfin was just visible over his shoulder, cloaked in shadow as Bowser had imagined. "Cigar?"

Bowser could think of roughly a thousand reasons not to accept any more gifts from his uncle by this point, but he shrugged them off nonetheless. "Thanks. You bring a date?" His uncle, from all he could remember, had never at any point displayed any non-platonic interest in anyone else, ever. _Probably for the best_.

"If you must know, that invitation was the exact one I instead extended to you and Toadette. Didn't want the seats to go to waste, know what I mean? The more, the merrier."

Huh. Bowser puffed at the cigar, using Koopa's lighter to roast its tip—_nice _quality, that—and returned to examining the crowds below him. With any luck his uncle would continue on to greet the other guests.

"What about yourself? It seems your partner had better luck at holding onto hers than you did," he laughed.

"Too short of notice," he muttered, pointedly looking at anywhere other than one specific couple. _I need to get out of here. _Moping around like this was for losers, and Bowser by default would never fall into that category. His favorite patio bar in Pianta Village beckoned; how many hours until eleven? Too fucking many.

"Is that so? My apologies, then." He laughed, his sharp canines glinting all too brightly in the candlelight. "Anything in the vendor booths catch your eye?"

"Said hi to Red. Looking well."

"Oh, she certainly is well at this time of year. FBR budget voting is approaching rapidly. But I do believe we've already had this conversation, now, haven't we."

The corner of Bowser's mouth twitched. "What's going to happen if they start starving for money?"

"Then they'll have to generate more of it," the king hummed. "The FBR is more than willing to take donations from any and all racing enthusiasts. And I'd rather not invest my own personal funds, of course, but I think we both know I have plenty of fundraising experience."

Bowser grit his teeth, suppressing a shudder. "Yeah. Place just the right All-Cup bet and Dry Bones will quit his bitching for a few years. Isn't that how it goes?"

His uncle emitted a booming laugh and clamped Bowser's shoulder with his free hand as though to steady himself. "Oh, _yes_, just crazy enough to work, isn't it? But…" He blew a jet of white smoke over the balcony railing, his golden eyes half-closed and dripping. "That's why I have you."

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

There were two types of people in the world, Kingfin had decided quite some time ago. Not thought, not believed, but knew. Because he had that luxury.

Two types, which he affectionately referred to as circle minds and branch minds.

At the current moment, he noted, Saulus' nephew lay uncomfortably in the circle category. Lines of thought that bordered upon the unknown—questions, fears, wondering, feeling—halted only when faced with an impassible boundary. Circle-minded souls had not the strength, or perhaps creativity, or in other cases, utter resources, to make it past those boundaries on their own. Pitiful, lonely souls, unable to see through the cracks in their self-made prisons.

And he had never met someone quite so alone, not in many lifetimes. Other spirits danced around him in every speed and pattern and direction, yet so few truly touched upon his, Kingfin could tell, that if someone did not change their dancing style soon, he could predict quite a tragedy in the young man's near future.

And he reeked. No, no, that word carried such a negative connotation; unsuitable for someone who could certainly pass as a decent fellow within. Not a particularly terrible scent at all—warm, smoky, spicy, and with an unsurprising hint of gasoline, all over a heady concoction of nicotine tar and cinnamon. Classic Daimaō spirit, just like his weary uncle and poor soul of a father. And mother, Kingfin realized with a start. Did the boy understand from where exactly his lovely soul had stemmed? Unlikely. Highly unlikely. Then again, Kingfin did know why.

"Kingfin, would you mind leading us to our table? Wouldn't want this tipsy old man interrupting some other party's experience."

"Shuh thin', suh." He walked in front of the king and his nephew, down the stairs and toward their destination, a shimmering dias upon which the largest table stood. Lakitu stood nearby; Kingfin watched the him and the king shake hands at first, then embrace. Old friend, Lakitu. They would all make for fine dinosaurs at this point.

Within minutes, Lakitu had dragged Saulus' nephew into hushed conversation. Cheerful fellow, Lakitu, considering the shit he had had to put up with from the king. Remarkably clean scent nonetheless; wisps of fresh linens, soap, and sage wafted over from his perpetually fluttering hands.

Minutes passed and Kingfin watched the Daimaō boy feign a smile as his karting partner approached. Said girl was a walking dream, a circle mind but with too few obstacles for it to really merit a classification at this time. Clouds of cotton candy and white lotus and, from out of nowhere, sharp spearmint, wafted over to him from across the table. Kingfin could not help but feel as though he had sensed this exact combination sometime before, and not too long ago at that.

She briefly exchanged words with her racing partner before the Daimaō boy gestured to him.

"I think we've met before, actually," she piped, smiling quite shyly. "At the bakery?"

Ah. Yes. Yes, indeed. "How ya doin'," he replied, gently clasping her hand lest he break her minuscule fingers. Not too difficult of an option. He perished the thought. Sweet girl. He needed to be far less inclined to hurt others on mere whims such as these.

The other boy with whom she held hands intrigued Kingfin, if only because he could recognize none of the qualities in his scent. Someone not from this realm…at the moment this left him with two broad options, and the boy certainly did not share any physical traits with the Piranha folk. Nor did his mind broadcast in any particular direction; at least that much Kingfin had suspected. He did look altogether cheerful and unable to take his eyes off of his adorable date. "Call me Lee! And it's an honor to meet you, your Majesty."

"The pleasure is all mine, I promise," Saulus murmured behind his cigar, "Kingfin, could you look out and see where the others are, perchance? We seem to have four seats still empty."

Kingfin nodded and examined the crowds beyond the stage upon which they stood. Clusters of round tables extended halfway down the ballroom, largely occupied by this point. He had to actively rein in his senses lest the overload of smells and sights and sounds do him in, much less the bloody spirits of all these lovely fools. Beyond the closest row of vendor stands, however, his vision could not take him. Other means would have to do.

_Karon_, he barked silently. _Do not make our benefactor wait for his meal. Not all of us managed fill up on Sap Juice on the limo ride over._

_Calm down, princess! We're heading over now. _

"Karon 'n' Rosalina are makin' thuh way over as wuh speak," he quietly informed the king. "Kuro 'n' Red are approaching now."

"Excellent. Though I'd rather wait to sit down until everyone has arrived, if you haven't guessed," the monarch chortled. Saulus' scent had repulsed Kingfin in the beginning, but had admittedly grown on him since. Notes varied depending upon the man's mood—lilac and oak and salt, and no small helping of tongue-numbing absinthe. Tonight in particular he reeked—yes, this time the word did fit—of something altogether stronger. Might as well have been Everclear. Had Kingfin's nose been what tasted the man, he would have undoubtedly wrinkled it in disgust.

Kingfin gritted his teeth and blocked out the chatter; the world around him now lay in silence save for the king. Kingfin would never put Saulus on mute. Could, certainly, but would not. Just in case. The man was a branch-thinker, refusing to let obstacles run his trains of thought back to where they began. Instead they grew and blossomed, forming more paths, twisting and turning about, as more time passed. His world, his universe, was accordingly just as enormous, but never so large as to swallow his soul whole. Not yet, at least.

So much sadness. So, so much. If Kingfin believed in all that soul metaphor crap he would assume the wisps of salt came entirely from the king's internal weeping. Internal, eternal, and relentless. And yet he had never seen the man so much as blink in his misery.

_Hang in there_, Kingfin wished he could communicate to his contractor. Could he only swap mindsharing with goddamn Karon in for this man instead. Hundreds of reasons came to mind—he supposed on some level he too was a branch-mind—but no technology existed yet that could service this particular need.

Kuro's and Red's scents reached Kingfin soon enough. The former exuded that which he himself surely gave off most—burning sandalwood, aloe, fresh leather…and, in the completely opposite direction of Kingfin, plumes of rich coffee and dragonfruit. Still, nothing new.

Red, on the other hand, _fascinated_ Kingfin. Branch-minded like her husband, though defined not by her obstacles but instead by her refusal to freeze up in thought. Energy flowed through her soul so smoothly and efficiently Kingfin often had to wonder at what age the woman had hit nirvana. Furthermore, he had never been able to properly taste her spirit; the woman managed to mask it from him with a sharp layer of perfume she wore daily. Some pink thing by her favorite designer, he recalled, concealed her true scent in billowing waves of heliotrope, fine country roses, mandarin, and booming tobacco petals. How clever, to mask her soul behind a literal sensual overload. She obviously had been given inside information early on, and Kingfin could easily guess the source.

He watched Red embrace everyone within a ten-yard radius, including the Luma child—Lee, yes?—whose calm demeanor could not conceal a slight trace of alarm, not from Kingfin. It must have been quite strong, then, to have taken on a flavor Kingfin could name. But Red's scent mixed most vividly with the pink-tressed young lady's, a cloud of deliciously false memories and all-to-real schemes for the future. Then again, not too different from the girl's racing partner, in a horribly direct sense.

At last Karon's sorry ass had made it to the stage. "Sorry to hold you all up! Greetings, your Majesty."

"Get up here, you piece of shit," Saulus barked at the approaching scientist. Kingfin suppressed a chortle. "Rosalina, my dear, you look ravishing. Come, come, as you can see, we have new guests at our table this season."

The blonde boy all but interrupted the king. "This is _Toadette_, Mama-san," he nearly sang. "From Team Firefly's flagship kart. I introduced you earlier this evening, remember? When you just arrived?"

"Of course," the starlit witch replied, her eyes utterly unreadable. Not as much of a problem for Kingfin. Yet of the many subtle scents that swirled about her, only two he could solidly name—cooling vetiver, and a surprising heap of bitter almond. He swallowed, suddenly remembering why exactly this woman posed such a threat to his associates. Trust goddamn Karon to play all too conceitedly with fire. The man clearly had no clue; then again, Kingfin's baby brother had never noticeably passed for a stunning judge of character. Clouds of what could best be described as rubber and aloe wafted forth, at once cloaking a far more alarming plume of rusting iron.

"And this is my partner, Rex Bowser," Toadette piped up to Rosalina. "I'd say he's gonna be your toughest competitor in these races! Bow, say hi."

Bowser halted his conversation with Lakitu to face whomever it was Toadette was trying to introduce to him. Kingfin watched their eyes meet and nearly swallowed, as their spirits mixed and contorted in the air about them, invisible to the naked eye. Not Kingfin. Kingfin understood immediately. And what a _treat_. The air filled with electricity, silently cackling before him in a maelstrom of recognition.

"How do you do," Rosalina murmured, holding out one hand to shake. Her one visible eye sparkled, warm and clear.

"As of right now?" The Daimaō boy clasped her hand and lifted it gently to his lips, maintaining absolute eye contact with her. "Pretty great."

Her lips curled ever so slightly. "Good to hear. I was beginning to tire of attending this with the same group year after year."

How rich. This velvety display was surely no mere accident. Karon may have been a fool, but not him. Kingfin quickly exchanged glances with the king, who pat his nephew on the back and topped off the young man's wine glass himself.

Kingfin raised an eyebrow. "Yuh Majesty, I couldda—"

"No need, Kingfin. Thank you for offering." The monarch tapped a slight tip of ash into the crystal ashtray next to his own goblet. "He makes me so, _so _very proud; do you understand?"

Ah.

So the time was coming soon. Kingfin laughed inwardly.

Bowser gently lifted the glass and nodded to his uncle. In thanks, perhaps? In concord? If so, then to what? Kingfin watched him drink, just a sip at first, then another, then a third. Kingfin drained his own as Lakitu bade greetings to Karon and Rosalina. The lights dimmed ever so slightly, yet the subsequent difference in the ballroom's mood and ambience was vast. His stomach rumbled.

Almost immediately, another of the king's little masked agents approached their table and took orders. "I'll take thuh tuna," Kingfin replied at his turn. "As rare 's possible, if yuh dun mind."

Conversation immediately took to racing. Kingfin relaxed, unmuting just his immediate surroundings. Not because he honestly felt safe, but because he could trust. His faith lay in the future, in the ever unwinding knots that bound these people together. He grinned as Karon froze beneath his cheerful visage, releasing a single, largely invisible chord of fury—unable to find an outlet, as his lovely date leaned closer to the Daimaō boy in their own quiet conversation. Toadette and Lee snickered to each other, returning the praise and compliments flying from Red and—oh, what was Kuro's bloody cover name again—Dark? Dark's mouths.

Kingfin licked his chops. The food arrived and Saulus toasted to the entire ballroom, a gorgeous affair of dancing candle tongues and fine silks and needlessly expensive Sarasaland glass table settings that glinted from the chandeliers softly swaying below the warm blue-striped ceiling above. The guests matched all too well in their finery, more like moving ornaments than living beings with souls; the king liked to remind the world that human presence could be obtained with mere money and patience and little else. Not that anyone would understand outright. Kingfin often wondered how frequently the man second-guessed himself and his little plots.

Nearly all of the players had made it here, to this place, at this time, via largely careful planning but also just the smallest smidgeon of fate; and what a game, what a game. Almost a fun one, at that.

Whose side had Kingfin taken? One of…let's see…five or six, at the low end. His mouth watered in anticipation.

The future beckoned.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Hi everyone! Sorry for such a long delay. All I can really promise is that I will never let this fic die unfinished. I'm seeing this baby through to the end!

That said, let me know how you think. The pacing so far has roughly matched that of the song Sleepwalking Past Hope, if that means anything to any of you lol. I promise that the next chapter will literally be action-packed, and not in any kind of metaphorical sense or anything! For realzies.

Also tell me if you want me to upload any more things to the blog! Pics or character drawings or anything. I do have a few ;)

Kingfin's olfactory binging comes straight from one particular author behind the Red String Productions. That said, please do not check them out until after you have seen all of the series Tiger & Bunny. And are very, _very_ open to unscrupulous fanmade storylines. Hee hee.


	17. Elvin Gadd

1) OH MY GOD NOT DEAD YET SMD yeah this chapter is pretty murky but if you pay attention you shall be rewarded. yes there will be a test  
2) thanks for your patience, everyone! so without further adieu

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Sixteen

The other vehicles, just like stars, blurred inevitably before her.

Their tail lights and blinkers warped and stretched as Rosalina sped over the dark pavement, just as the celestial bodies bowed before her starship as it crossed the universe. She zoned out, her long-honed internal autopilot kicking in within seconds.

Dark Bones' grin haunted her thoughts. He had simply been too calm. Too relaxed. Or had at least successfully feigned the appearance of it—a far worse scenario.

"_You can thank me later. See you at the race tomorrow."_

She had spotted the motion easily enough: a languid gesture in the middle of a hushed conversation, straying a tad too close to Dry Bones' wineglass. Again, specifically calculated for her to see, and no one else. Uncomfortably smooth. Within two hours had had crumpled into unconsciousness, much to both his brothers' delight.

"_I can thank you now. What is it you're after?"_

"_What, no favors between friends? You owed him, he owed me, I owed you. Just had to end everything lest we continue forever, know what I mean?"_

"_I need to talk to you. About Saulus."_

A wolf whistle drew her sharply from her thoughts. Just her luck; two bikes had pulled up to either side of hers, right as the stoplight ahead flipped from yellow to red. The one to her left braked altogether too sharply to keep from rolling into the crossroads, a painful screech emanating from his poorly-maintained ride.

"Big bike, huh, baby? You like 'em heavy?"

"I like 'em heavy too, angel," the other called, snorting in laughter.

Rosalina sighed, partially in amusement. Her current bike fell under the cruiser category—no good for stunts, or showdowns. She would have to be subtle—or, in this case, abrupt.

Without hesitation she revved her engine and took off, tearing across the intersection an instant before the multitude of cars and trucks in the crossing lanes could do any damage. The honking and screeching of the swerving traffic almost immediately dissipated the disappointed shouting of the bikers behind her. _Ciuccios. _

After some time, she realized that a fork in the road loomed. Stay on this arterial road, or take the highway into the mountains? Decisions, decisions.

_I need to get out of here_.

Rosalina flew over the entrance ramp, relishing the open road before her. Far, far too late at night for most of the island's inhabitants to bother crossing to another city. Three or four, she supposed, not having looked at a watch since her narrow escape from the ship nor when she changed back at the Observatory.

So many stars. Rosalina did love the countryside for this reason as well. Heaps of sparkling jewels filled the void above her head, nearly enough to make her mouth water. They beckoned.

Time took her to an unlit rest stop just south of the Bianco Hills turnaround. A few picnic tables, some litter cans, a grill. She eased herself off of the enormous blue Vulcan and collapsed onto a park bench, suddenly aware of her exhaustion. She supposed that it had been a long night in some sense or other.

"_You know better than I that this is no place to talk, my friend. But my schedule should allow me to spend an afternoon at that Gate of yours in three days' time. Let me know what you think."_

"_That's after the first second-round race. Are you sure…?"_

"_Sure? I'm not sure of anything anymore." _He had laughed, then, uncomfortably, for far too long. Gales of the miserable.

Her cell rang. Rosalina rolled her eyes at the caller and picked up after four long rings.

"Still in no need of a pickup, Highness?"

"In a little bit, maybe. I need to think."

"I would recommend thinking at perhaps a slower pace than ninety per hour, Princess," Polari replied. "While I must confess I have absolute faith in your ability on the road, your increasingly frequent biking episodes are turning me into a mother figure yet."

Poor choice of wording, that last bit. Yet Rosalina let it slide. "Kuro gave me my exit after all. He wants to come up for a chat after the fifth race. Immediately after."

"Sly dog. We'll be sure to prepare those tea cakes he likes. And the elder brother made no motion to stop him?"

"Kingfin only looks dull," Rosalina reminded him, pulling one knee to her chest. "I can't determine whether he saw the action itself or not, but…if he doesn't already know, then he can certainly infer…"

"Well wouldn't that be nice, if half of Team Ezekiel truly holds your well-being in high interest," Polari laughed.

Rosalina's stomach froze. "Polari—say that again. Slowly." _Team...?_

"Oh! I said it, yes, you saw what I did there. I have no proof, of course, but the signs are painfully obvious, even for—"

Rosalina nearly dropped the phone. "And you just came to this conclusion now?"

"Not just now, my dear. I'd say about fifteen minutes ago. Wanted to mull it over a tad, just in case."

"And just when I had begun to think you were actually calling to check up on me," she murmured, still shaking from her discovery. Polari's, rather. Bless his soul. "But where…where do we go with this information? We already knew they were traveling _with_ the racers, if not _as_—"

"Upward and onward, your Highness! Help me put these pieces together if you can. I'm stumped on a specific point, you see."

"Yes? About… their purpose, or… the team itself?" Her mind raced. _Jeremiah… Ezekiel… Dry Bones…_

"Karon's racing partner. It's certainly not his eldest brother, for we've calculated a ninety-nine percent probability that it is an artificial life-form akin to our charming Gearmos."

_Karon's partner? But we already knew that. _Obviously a robot, and equipped with a hell of a laser, Rosalina had found out midway through the second race. "Likely something he whipped up in that ridiculous R&D department of his," she growled. "After all, why follow such silly participation constraints when you're the one drawing them up?"

"The man is on all accounts a major racing enthusiast. How he must have longed for a true taste of the action after years of his brothers' successes…"

"He's not the type to place a great deal of trust on someone so close as a partner. That ROB mess has to be all him. Though, as government-funded projects go in those labs, I highly doubt it bears the bulk of last year's fiasco of a grant."

"So you don't think that his ROB creation is where that dratted majority of the king's money went, do you?" She could practically hear Polari grinning at her through the line.

"No. And I know why. Beam me and the bike up if you can. We're on exit 6 of the eastern highway heading north."

"But of course, your Highness. See you in a few minutes."

Rosalina snapped the cell shut and straddled her Kawasaki once more. This night was about to grow much, much longer.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"Okay, so lemme get this straight. It was about an hour after I blacked out when I set the roof on fire?"

Bowser normally would have slowed up his pace to allow poor Koopa to walk at a more comfortable rate, but this whole damn situation had him slightly preoccupied at the moment. His body ached in ways he thought unfathomable, and his legs felt like jelly. Marvelous racing condition, yes indeed. _Fuck_.

"See, that depends. When did you black out? What's the last thing you remember? Or start with what you know you remember and go forward…" Koopa dodged passing racers and FBR workers as they headed further into Delfino Plaza's racing sector.

"Me and Toadette made it out of the Gala around eleven, I think, since the rest of you were gone by the time we got back to the room. Louie 'n Daisy said they were gonna stay in for a bit longer…I remember changing and taking the truck—Koopa, _who has my truck?_"

"The Pianta who owned the bar still has it, I think. He said he'd watch it while you were at the race today. Hell of a fan, in case you couldn't tell."

After enduring a near heart attack, Bowser regrouped. "So it must've closer to midnight when we hit Pianta Village. I remember seeing Wario with Mona…how long were they there?"

"They left at a little after one, I think. Did you do _anything_ else before jumping into a mosh pit, or was that your priority for the evening? You literally dove into it. Headfirst. Like a—"

"Fuck you, I needed to let off steam. Then after the cops broke that up…oh." Bowser winced. "That must've been when that owner gave me the wristband." In all honesty that had not been the first, or second, or twentieth time he had been given special treatment during the All-Cup. If anything, Bowser's antics before then had gotten that particular establishment a ton of free advertising.

"I remember that!" Daisy piped as Bowser and Koopa approached her and Paratroopa near the athlete sector entrance, roped off from both the fans and the media swamped around it. The Shy Guy doorman nodded at Bowser's group and let them proceed.

Hold the phone. Daisy without Luigi this close to a race? _Why is my team so scattered today? _

"The cops were swarming the place when Luigi and I pulled in," she continued. "He didn't wanna go in, but I wanted to make sure you all were okay."

Bowser kneaded his aching head. "I didn't remember seeing either of you," he admitted. "I remember…fire… lots of fire. I think that was when I went onto the patio."

"They kept giving you flaming shots on the house," Paratroopa giggled. "Koopa and I lost count, but then again we were…uh… pretty busy…with—"

"Where's everybody else?" Koopa interrupted all too quickly. "This is less than half our—"

"Inside the first release bay!" Daisy jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Baby says you got a key to one of the peripheral garages in the Mach 6, Bow."

Oh, Christ. Bowser had forgotten about the stuff from two nights ago…until now. Then again, that had been the point of going out the night before…success, he supposed, all things considered.

"Yeah, that's true. Is anyone still on the ship?"

"Nope. Toad and Toadette headed out earliest with Baby. Got breakfast, maybe. That was a few hours ago. Luigi should be with Wally and Wario in here." Paratroopa pulled open her cell to call Toad.

"Okay. Okay." Bowser covered his eyes as they entered the Mach 6; the huge halogen lamps overhead worsened his still slightly-trashed state in ways even the glaring Delfino sun could not match. Koopa chortled and pressed a pair of sunglasses into his hand. Bless the man.

"I haven't been this bad in…damn, like half a year," Bowser guessed. "Again, what the _hell _happened_?_"

"Depends on which, uh, fire you were remembering. 'Cause if the last thing you actually remember is when that Pianta threw us a free keg, then, yeah…oh, but they put it out pretty quickly." Koopa flashed his ID to the Shy Guy at the garage entrance. "Don't worry, man, we still got an hour before we gotta roll onto the track. You'll be fine."

Easy for Koopa to say. "Yeah? Why the fuck aren't we in jail?"

"He says it happens pretty often in the summer. No shit. You know how to pick 'em, Bow."

"What the—but _how_? What'd I do?"

"You grabbed the tap and sprayed it through that lighter I gave you. The flames went over the patio and onto the roof. I thought you'da fried your hand off but you were fine when we found you. For real, no burns, no nothing. You weren't even that much warmer than normal. It…yeah, it was weird." A second later Koopa doubled over in laughter. "You should see the look on your _face_! I'm not making this shit up, I swear!"

"But…" Bowser growled, shaking his head violently. "That doesn't make any fucking sense. I thought we found out freshman year that you can't shoot fire with a damn _keg_—"

"Hell if I know, man! I got pretty wasted myself, so I had to ask everyone else, too. It was like…" He shrugged, his dark eyes growing wider as he spoke. "Like the fire just went wherever you wanted. It shot straight into the sky, for real. Surprised the only thing that sustained damage was that roof."

Bowser trusted Koopa, granted, but hell. People wouldn't just come up with this stuff. Like a damn fairy tale.

He shook his head yet again as they crossed the bustling garage floor. "Fuck it. Race time. How are the karts? Where _is_ everyone?"

The Koopa King, Parawing, Bullet Bill, Bloom Coach, and Wario's car gleamed from their usual section, but devoid of the usual racers tending to them. But then the sound of his partner's voice eased his nerves ever so slightly.

"Bow! You survived!" Toadette's teeny arms encircled him from behind.

"No clue how. D'you have fun last night?"

"Honestly? Yeah! That Lee guy turned out to be really adorable. But…" She quickly pivoted around to face him. "You are _terrifying_ when you get angry. I thought you were gonna burn that whole bar down."

_Oh, for crying out loud_—"Why am I the only one that doesn't remember this?"

Toadette shrugged. "Well, you were pretty irritated after that party. At least you got to say hi to Rosalina, yeah?" The look in her eye communicated a different statement entirely.

"We can talk that over after this race. Let's go check this garage out." It then occurred to him that he had not fished the key from his luggage before he had left the room; yet something told him that if Baby had informed the others, then he had little to worry about in regards to getting in.

Sure enough, he spotted Baby, Toad, and Wario way at the other end of the main garage. Lakitu's Mach 6 monster had multiple bays on the main floor and many, many smaller compartments in the surrounding walls. His teammates had gathered around a wide bay door far to the back. Its heavy metal blinds were nearly indistinguishable from the surrounding walls; it was no small wonder that even he had never noticed it before.

"See? Calm down, bro, everything's gonna be fine. Let's check out this new garage bay of yours." Trust Koopa to have already recovered completely from a shitshow like that. Lucky bastard. Bowser sighed, giving into his friend's sweet-talking.

"You know what? Okay, final thing. Can someone please just tell me how I got back to the ship in one piece? Then we can check this place out."

"We called a limo," Toad laughed. "My parents told me they'd let me order one during the tour anyways. I… don't think that was the occasion they had in mind, though."

"Classy. I seriously owe you one, Toadster."

"Duly noted," the blonde teen replied. "No taking that back later."

"Never." Bowser grinned in spite of himself and made eye contact with Baby. The boy had his new paintbrush his left hand, idly twirling it about, and the envelope in his right.

"I made sure to grab this from your suitcase before we left," the younger redhead explained. "Figured you'd be too out of it when you woke up to remember."

Bless the souls of his precious brethren. Bowser pulled Baby into a quick bear hug. "Called it. I'd be so dead if it weren't for you lot. Let's see what this thing looks like." He inserted the key into the steel lock and turned.

The door rolled open much more smoothly and silently than he had expected. The inside was dark, and Toadette and Wario immediately began searching along the wall's edges for light switches.

"Got it," Toadette called, and after a loud _SNAP_ six overhead fluorescent lights flickered on, one at a time.

"Huh. Not-a what I was expecting, but…" Wario shrugged, giving the space a once-over. The garage had space for exactly four karts and little else, save for shelves upon shelves filled with what looked like paper documents far against the back wall.

Paratroopa whistled. "Who did you say gave you this key, Bowser?"

"A scientist who used to do some work for the FBR left it to me in his will. I honestly don't know much more than that."

"And…how old was this guy when he did that stuff?" Baby laughed, idly running the tip of his paintbrush along the wall. It briefly left a red-orange trail that dissipated just as quickly. "Whoa."

"No idea," Bowser replied, hypnotized by the brush. "I don't see any equipment or supplies or anything...just these files… Baby, _what_…?"

"I don't know! Lemme try it on other stuff!" Baby ran with the opportunity and began dragging the fat brush over every available surface in the shop. Trails of brilliant neon lit up in its wake and disappeared within seconds. "It definitely wasn't doing this outside this room…"

After another minute of watching the teenager briefly tag the entire garage, Bowser pulled himself together and trudged over to where the rest of his team had begun exploring the contents of the shelves.

Toadette joined him, pulled the first file she could reach, and opened it up. Her jaw immediately dropped. "Bow, come here. You're not gonna believe this."

"What?" He and the others gathered around behind Toadette. She pointed to the heading and seal at the top of the first page. "It's _Elvin Gadd_," she gasped. "He's…like…the godfather of racing science! _He's _the one who left you this place?"

"Uh…yeah, I guess so."

"Wow! That's so cool!"

"Wait, like the Gadd who's on the news right now? They literally just announced his death yesterday," Toad whispered, his eyes unreadable. "You…you got this two nights ago?"

Bowser nodded, his hangover worsening as each second passed. Surely that was it. "I got called up at last-minute notice, literally. It was like in the middle of the night." Baby nodded with him in affirmative.

Daisy shrugged. "This is _intense_. Is it 'cause your uncle's the king, maybe?"

"I doubt it. I just got this regent position a few days ago. Either he wrote this will in that period of a few days, or it's…I dunno, some other reason…" He shivered inwardly. "I think I need to sit down."

"Are you gonna be okay driving?" Toadette asked. "I can if you need me to! I practiced early this morning with Toad so I'd be used to the beach."

"For real? Shit, I feel bad now. We should get more practice time after today. Been neglecting it with all the stuff going on." This had definitely been the least racing-oriented karting cup he'd ever raced in.

"It's all good," Daisy piped. "Let's fuel up and check the karts. Where on earth are Louie and Wally?"

Bowser inhaled deeply and went to work on the Koopa King, falling into his usual motions in due time. He could not afford to screw up on a race this early on. He would only have one shot after this to make it past the first round, and his scores from the first two races would be meaningless if he and Toadette did terribly on the next two.

The final two members of his team arrived an excruciating nine minutes before green-lighting. "Louie? Where the hell you been?"

"We need to talk," he panted as Daisy stood over him. "After this race, though. Everything okay with the kart?"

"We're all good," Wario called. "Everyone move out."

The applause from the beach's spectators was slightly more gentle and refined than that of the first stadium's, Bowser noted. Only the island's citizens and the wealthiest of out-of-towners could procure tickets to races located on the tropical paradise of Isle Delfino. Then again, once the flags went up, even the most demure of spectators invariably found ways to make their...opinions...known to everyone in a ten-mile radius.

He and Toadette blasted off yet again at Lakitu's final light, tearing over the cobblestone streets of the island's capital. One wide turn later and they reached the first beach of the loop. Sprawling, sparkling, and complimented by the most perfect weather possible, it could lull even the most seasoned racer into a false sense of security—and _boom,_ Cataquack to the face.

"What _are_ those things?" Toadette asked as Bowser swerved around each incoming beast. "I see them on TV every season and they freak me out!"

"Cataquacks. Steer the fuck away. Worse than Chain Chomps because nothing's here to stop them from chasing you." He snaked and slid as necessary,baiting one for just long enough to send it hurtling on a straight path to Boo's kart just to his left. _Score_.

"I have a red shell! Lemme know when!"

"Right now. More boxes coming up."

Sixth out of fifty. They flew under the short rock tunnel and snagged a Double Item box—Bowser's shell, and another red shell for Toadette. _Someone up there's rooting for me_.

"Who's ahead of us?"

Bowser checked the radar. "Rosalina, the boys, Koopa...the fuck is Mario doing this high up...the hell? When'd that Roter Noko pass us?" _Could have sworn they were down in sixteenth just now—_

"Who cares? Let's blow them out of the water!"

"Solid plan. Switch!" Upon reaching the Thrower pedestal, Bowser hurled his shell forward, effectively clearing their path of any stray Items or Cataquacks. Toadette had a straight shot towards the final curve of the first lap.

"Yeouch!"

Bowser flipped Yoshi and Birdo off as they passed in their lurid pink kart. Just a spinout from a banana; nothing bellow-worthy. "You okay?"

"Red shell incoming from behind! I can't avoid it at this speed!"

For perhaps the fourth time in his life, Bowser cursed his kart's notoriously low acceleration. He glanced behind him—sure enough, here came the red blur, no way they could avoid—

"Get back in the race, Bow!" Daisy shouted, intercepting the shell using her floating Heart item. She whipped around on the Bloom Coach's pedestal to hurl it behind them.

"I owe you," he shouted back, cursing the green-suited Jeremiah racer in the back of his head. He'd had about enough of these damn last-minute mystery entries.

Second lap. He made mental calculations without so much as closing his eyes and missing out on the action around him—no way Wario and Wally would survive this round, he realized, his heart sinking just a tad, Rosalina and Luma carefully hovering between fifth and sixth place before what would undoubtedly be their patented last-lap comet blast into first, Styx Tartosso and that fucking robot literally snaking the entire race to maintain a solid sixth place average—all while swerving and chucking Items and exchanging barks with Toadette and, over the radio, the rest of his team. The boys took out DK and Diddy, Koopa and Paratroopa began lagging thanks to repeated hits from Petey and Boo, Daisy called out that the boys from Team Mario had just pulled out their Chain Chomp Item and would everyone _please_ get the fuck out of the way for your own sakes—

"Roter Noko and Angoisse Shadow, dead ahead!" Toadette yelped as the approached the final stretch of the third lap. "We got anything?"

"Not Items. But switch with me."

Toadette giggled and swapped spots with him. "What if you miss the boxes? We need a backup plan!"

"Items _are _the backup plan this time, Toadette. This last-minute entry doesn't need to be making first this early in the damn tourney."

They reached the final straightaway. First place was so close Bowser could nearly taste it. He had crossed the line of uncertainty; though he had no surefire way to explain how he always managed to know when he would place first, the fact remained true nonetheless. _I'm going to win this one. I _am.

Bowser pulled them into an effortless mini-turbo after a luscious twenty seconds of straight snaking, propelling them toward the Team Jeremiah kart at the highest speed his kart would allow—and allow it did.

"What are you _doing? _We're gonna crash—!"

"Brace yourself!"

Bowser's kart caught the ugly bronze monster's rear bumper at the perfect angle—not straight ahead, for fear of merely pushing them forward, but at a scrumptious ten-o'clock angle, sending the kart hurtling pell-mell into the Giant Pianta statue off to the left, some thirty meters before the finish line. Bowser unleashed a gut-crushing roar as they flew over the checkered line.

"Not bad!" Toadette shook her head, wiping tears from her face as she giggled. "I was worried they'd be too heavy—"

"WHO WANTS A PIECE OF ME?" Bowser snarled at the crowds in the stands around them. "DON'T MAKE ME BURN YOU IN HALF—"

"Here he goes again," Koopa sighed over the radio. "Race well done. Great work, everybody…"

"Speak for yourself," Wario laughed inline. "Looks like this is it for our kart. Even if we place first in the next race…no good."

"Hey! You two did the best job you could do. You n' Wally still beat over twenty other karts by points, yeah?"

"Thanks, kid. We'll chat it over once-a Bow… calms down, yeah?"

Bowser could not bring himself to care about his teammates' snickering, continuing instead to roar into the flashbulbs of the audience around him. The combination of brutal hangover, adrenaline rush, hell, _victory_ rush, and sheer exhaustion had long removed any possibility of consideration of etiquette. Fuck that noise. He lifted Toadette onto his shoulder as autopilot pulled his kart through the victory lap, too proud for words. _This could work._

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"Foiled again."

"Oh, don't stress yourself over it, my dear. We're not here to w—"

"_You_ may not be here to win, but this sport is my life. My _life_, Kuro. If you cared about _anything_-"

"Spare me. The grand filibuster my brother's been babysitting has eaten up too many of the country's funds at this point. Too many. To the point where even the citizens have hold of the information. It's too flagrant, too clear. This _life_ of yours is my hell."

"Hmph." Red gently removed her helmet and shook her hair out. One hell of a shower lay in her close future. "It's too funny, you know," she called as her husband shrugged his racing jacket off.

"What's too funny? The fact that I'm about to be attacked by every interest group and corporation in this country while you hide in the lee of my brother's—"

"It's funny, the number of people who think your _brother_ concocted and ran the Daimaō study," she continued, in spite of herself. _If I'm to be flayed alive for this, then so be it._

So, so worth it.

Dark Bones stopped dead in his tracks. Red silently counted to three; just as planned, he turned on the spot and sunk into the plush purple sofa facing their lockers, crossing one leg over the other. "And you're doing your boss a favor by getting chatty about this?" His expression she knew well: charming, relaxed, more effective of a poker face than any rocksteady stoicism, for it begged to be underestimated. But not by Red. Not today.

She shrugged off her jacket and hung it neatly in her locker. No wrinkles, no folds. Perfect. "We both want you to survive the onslaught of ill-conceived attacks about this funding scandal. But to make it out alive, you're going to need to know the truth."

Her husband smiled, examining his pristine nails. "And your version of the truth is more trustworthy than the King's, because…?"

Red sighed and fell next to him on the couch, lifting one leg up to unzip her boot. "I didn't marry you for convenience. Yes, everything worked out _quite_ nicely, and I won't complain. But I'm fighting for my own survival here, and, by extension, yours. Don't ever make the mistake of thinking that I'm not looking out for your best interests. Ever."

Dark Bones sighed, kneading his forehead in a calculated show of weariness. Too obviously contrived; in that regard, he was slipping indeed. "Then I suppose you'd better fill me in on who exactly it is that wanted all of those people killed. If my guess is correct, then that boy is next on the list."

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"They announce it yet?" Bowser called over the roar of the water rushing through the pipes.

Two rooms away, Paratroopa refreshed her laptop's browser. _He can't even wait to find out until _after_ showering? This guy is a race nut._ In all honesty, though, who could blame him? Not like she had been checking the announcement page every ten seconds since the race had ended...

_Huh_. "Looks like they're flying us up to the north pole in the morning," she called toward the master bathroom. _Sarasaland?_ "I bet it's the Sherbet Land course!"

"Excellent," Daisy called from the girls' suite. "I'll call my parents up now! We can stay in their villa instead of a hotel. Save some cash, yeah?"

"_Villa_?" Paratroopa raised one eyebrow, pleased. "I _like_ this team!"

"It's a chateau that's been in my family for generations! Old, and, uh… cozy… but it's right on the Frappe Lake across from the old racing course. We can get some practice laps in if that sounds good."

"Definitely. Koopa and I still need to practice our switching. I bet one of us can make it to third if we focus on beating either Rosalina's or that Roter Noko's kart, yeah?"

"You really think we stand a chance against either of them, though?" Daisy carried a pile of laundry into the room and dumped it at the foot of Koopa's bed, inches away from Paratroopa's laptop.

"Ideally we'd be able to get both," she murmured, rubbing her boyfriend's freshly dried tee against her cheek. Fuzzy. "I'd say keep aiming as high as possible. Shooting for a lower place, no matter how specifically you strategize, just isn't the most advantageous plan…"

"Heh. Might as well." Daisy stretched and glanced sideways at the laundry. "Hope Koopa likes folding socks, 'cause I got way more important things to do." She pulled out her cell and plopped into the room's lone sofa, still for the first time that day.

Paratroopa chewed her tongue, glancing furtively over the screen of her laptop. It had not occurred to her until now, but Daisy looked downright exhausted when not caught up in her usual blur of motion. The deep bags under her eyes could have passed for bruises in different lighting.

_Why doesn't she sleep_?

"Hi, it's Daisy! …uh huh! Yep, fifth—no, no…I've been keeping pretty busy! Our… team… keeps growing, yeah…"

Always something. Out running errands, going shopping, exploring, chores… Daisy never slept, Paratroopa realized with a jolt. Never sleeps. _Why does no one else bring it up_?

Did they know? Surely they knew. How long had they toured together? Three seasons? Long enough to shove out any room for excuses. _I should ask Luigi_.

Wait. If they knew, and were making no visible efforts to help her, then—then what? Was it just another aspect of this team that she had not learned yet? These people each had their running list of quirks and secrets. Yet Daisy's inhuman ability to stay awake permanently surely merited some type of attention…

Paratroopa suddenly turned her attention to Daisy's end of the phone conversation, not because the redhead's voice had risen, but the opposite. Paratroopa slowed her typing and strained her ears.

"—yeah…he found out this morning…no! No—it's just—look, I told him I'd go with his decision, whichever he—I don't know. I don't. …going through a rough time, now, so…not the brightest, yeah…after this is over, yeah. Hope so…"

_Who's going through a rough time?_ Several names immediately sprung to mind.

Several agonizing minutes later, Daisy finally hung up. She continued to gaze upon her phone's screen for a few minutes as though in a daze.

"Everything…okay?" Paratroopa asked, glancing over laptop screen.

Daisy chewed her tongue. "Yes, for now." And, a few seconds later, "This might not mean anything to you right now, but Luigi's brother finally secured a job as a doctor a week before this cup started. Luigi told me immediately after the race."

_Uh, okay…_ "So…what's the mean? Aren't that guy and his girlfriend racing in this right now?"

Daisy nodded. "It means that he's able to support himself, Peach, and Luigi without needing backup from their parents. It means they can live together again, like in the old days."

Paratroopa had heard rumors, largely from Koopa and Toad, of the Mario brothers' estranged relationship with their parents; its exact boundaries and nuances had always mystified her. Hell, both of the brothers were gifted racers and had established relationships with demi-royalty in spite of growing up in near poverty. What were the odds? "But... that's good, right?"

"Well, yeah. Luigi's missed him. A lot. His big brother was the only one who ever stood up for him when they were kids. Luigi was different—forgiving, imaginative, free-spirited—a big fluffy goofball, really. Everyone else saw him as…as a weakling, know what I mean? Untrustworthy in a pinch." Daisy withdrew her gaze, surely remembering scenes she could not bring herself to describe to Paratroopa.

"But not Mario. Luigi's soft nature never distressed him. He didn't care whether or not Luigi had the willingness to lie or cheat, even for the sake of his family—he loved him for who he was. And for a long time, I think he was the only one."

Paratroopa swallowed. "Would you be going with him?"

Daisy replied without hesitation. "Always. The two of us…it's been working. Really well. Mario knows. My parents know. They've always tried to take care of all of us. We have the finances, yeah, duh, but more importantly we'd be an actual unit. Honestly, it's something I think I've been wanting more than anything."

_Unit_. Did Paratroopa belong in a unit? She loved her family, truly, but after living for so many years cramped up with them in her stifling hometown, she needed out. She needed racing. She wanted Koopa, and his marvelous team that absorbed her even at the cost of splitting their flagship kart—still, though, that had brought them Toadette, for which she was ceaselessly thankful.

"The problem is the team, isn't it," she asked slowly, cautiously.

What felt like an eternity passed before Daisy responded. "Bowser's our leader. Yeah, we haven't been on the team as long as Koopa or Wally or Wario or Baby, but…" She took a deep breath. "Luigi joining…it was rash. Unlike him. It was right after his family had abandoned him. In a way, I think it was his one attempt at spite, in the face of how they'd been treating him for two decades."

"They wouldn't let him race with Mario?"

"He was terrified they would cut Mario off while he was still living from paycheck to paycheck. How he paid for med school, I can only guess… although I'd _bet_ you Peach helped out with that..."

"But now Mario can run his own team? Or wants to, I mean?"

Daisy nodded. "It's up to Luigi. But how the hell is he going to say no to either of them? He can't have both."

Paratroopa gazed out the hotel window. Somehow even the tropical paradise outside had grown frigid.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Junieo found Bowser slumped back against the wall separating his room from Koopa's. Glistening droplets of water hung in his spun-gold hair; had he walked straight out of the shower and passed out? Sure looked like it.

"You okay, bro?"

Bowser blinked awake and immediately glanced up at him in alarm. "Yeah. Where've you been? ...what time is it?"

"At the beach. Toad's still down there with Toadette. I mean, it's probably the first time they've been to a beach together in…" Junieo shrugged. "Looks like around seven."

"Shit." Bowser reached for his phone after it buzzed three times in rapid succession. Junieo watched Bowser's face as he studied it—curious, then shocked, then clearly dismayed.

"Everything okay?"

"I gotta go. Didn't mean to sleep so long." Bowser bolted up, though not without grimacing. He shrugged it off and began pulling clothes from his suitcase—dark slacks, a jacket, the first dress shirt he reached, not bothering to check the color.

"Where?" Junieo crossed his arms. "Back to your uncle?"

Bowser froze—just for a second, but long enough to warrant suspicion—and nodded, continuing to dress. To Junieo he looked downright gaunt, his skin pale even after having raced on the beach in direct sunlight earlier. Junieo shook his head and grabbed a blow drier from the bathroom.

"What're you—?" Bowser jumped slightly upon feeling Junieo tug at his hair.

"Just getting you completely dried before you go visit royalty. Hold still." Junieo gently drew his fingers through Bowser's inhumanely stunning locks, untangling the wet patches before employing the electric drier at its lowest setting. Had he not known better, he would have mistaken Bowser's steady unclenching of his muscles for actual relaxation.

"…thanks." Bowser mercifully remained seated on the bed, pulling on his spiked straps, one at a time, while waiting for Junieo to finish.

"Lemme tie it back for you. Where d'you keep that leather string?"

"Got a few in my suitcase, top outside pocket." Bowser jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

Junieo fetched not one but two, and braided a single minuscule section of the freshly dried hair before pulling it all into Bowser's characteristic loose ponytail, letting it fall gently down the back of his jacket. He grinned wolfishly at his handiwork. Even if Bowser could not appreciate all the little details, someone else surely would.

"Where's he wanting you to meet him?"

"Says he has a car waiting in front of the hotel, so I dunno." To call Bowser's current expression _displeased_ would be one hell of an understatement.

Junieo winced. "Well tell whoever's driving to pick food up for you on the way. You still look like you're about to pass out."

"Dunno if I can afford passing out with these people," Bowser muttered under his breath as he stuffed his wallet in his jacket's inner pocket. Just before reaching the door, he halted. "The rest of you should get dinner. Put it on my tab, okay? Don't wait up for me. Go somewhere nice."

"Bow…"

"_Jun_—Baby. Do it. I'll be back later... thanks for everything." He smirked, almost looking like his normal self, before leaving the room. The door closed with a soft _thud_, not a slam, nothing rattling. Too quiet for Bowser. Uncomfortably quiet. Junieo hated it.

He rubbed his eyes and crashed onto Bowser's bed. Quick nap, before Toad and the others returned, yeah. Today had been exhausting, and yet the forboding sense that it remained far from over continued to burn in his nerves.

_Take care of yourself, Bow. Not like you give anyone else the chance._

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

I never honestly expected to live past age 21, but thanks largely to you guys I'm still kicking. That said, I have a pretty laid back job here in NOLA now so I have ample time to write. I might even have the next chapter up within a few weeks! Oh man how often have I said that though. Eh pray for godspeed. Or something. Thanks for reading! Again my only promise is that this fic WILL reach its intended end. Any ETA is out the window otherwise lol. Cheers.

Also: anybody out there got a tumblr? I run fuckyeahbowser and kaernoelle in addition to lightninglaveau. And that's just the tip of the iceberg...


	18. Kerog Saulus

Greetings, earthlings. This is a terrifically short chapter but I figured if I didn't upload now I'd be stuck in a rut until winter or later. Blech. Longer, ACTUAL ACTION CHAPTER to follow this one lolol.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Seventeen

"_How could I do that_, you ask? How? Well, my dear, why don't you tell me?" Nervy, this one. Not that this merited more surprise than any of her other antics as of late.

The closest thing to a growl the king had ever heard this woman utter met him over the phone line. "You're a fool for thinking he'll play right into your hands that way. It's madness."

"Ah, blessed madness. The last refuge of the weary. You'll vouch for me in front of the jury, won't you, Rosalina?"

"The last time I checked, your Majesty, your national trials are no longer decided by juries."

"Ouch! You got me," he laughed, gently stroking the space bar of his elegant ebony keyboard with one thumb. "So I assume you'll be playing along as usual?"

"If you have any idea how close I've come to telling him, your Majesty…"

"Tears will be shed, heads will roll, I know, I know, spare me the homily."

Silence. He gave her time. Decisions as heavy as these required vast amounts of well-spent time—which was of course why properly-made ones were so few and far between.

"You forget he's still human."

"_Sometimes_, sometimes, my dear. And as time passes I can _promise_ his humanity will more easily slip away, day by day. You are running out of options."

"And how exactly do you know this? His father showed no signs until _decades_ after he was that age. The work of your mad scientist, then? Your spy, who he thinks works on his payroll? Her husband, straining harder against your leash of cash each second? Or your muscle man? All _experts_ in the phenomenon of the Daimaō genes, I'm sure."

The King grinned—he could not help it—nearly biting his tongue as he did so.

"True! So true!" Fireworks of joy burst forth within his soul. Lovely lady. Wizened, scarred, ever so lovely. "Oh, Rosalina, if you tell me you hold a cleaner and more beautiful answer than my computers and coins have ever created, I would do anything for your help. Anything." For his beautiful boy. Anything for the charming, heartbreaking wretch of—of _humanity_, Rosalina had the gall to call that, humanity—of whatever was left. Anything.

"Deep space magic. To summarize very, _very _broadly. This isn't new, and if you are so lazy as to choose that slow decay of your nephew's mind and heart over any possibility of his recovery, then I will personally demolish your palaces and slay your troops with all the firepower I can muster. The greatest notion of harm that you can fathom will quake in the face of my wrath."

_How_ he had missed this—the true Rosalina, the burning ice of her threats he knew _far_ too well to be true to make any type of bluff call—and quake he did, if only for four seconds. This was _exciting_.

"So you do fear the threshold is upon us." The last of his words trailed away as his voice broke, cracking into dust. He needed a drink.

"Very much so, your Majesty. I would not be at all surprised if some sparks haven't already flown. But as I've said before, it need not mean the end. Not for him. Not yet, by far. He has potential to bring justice to your kingdom. Order. And you know it."

"Sparks, you say." Mercy, what a headache. Saulus pulled a bottle of Ouzo from the refrigerated cabinet beneath his desk and took a swig. Better, yes, much better. He felt his voice return immediately. "Yet again you continue to underestimate me. No, Rosalina; perhaps I am the one requiring trust at this point."

"Oh, yes. I have every reason to trust you and your associates with the last burning Daimaō soul remaining. Your expert care of the last…what, nearly six hundred in the past nine years?...yes, utterly convinced am I." Her words burned him in places he forgot he had.

"Then why don't I put this in simple terms," he nearly sang into the receiver. "What happens to the boy from now on will be far beyond your control. In fact, I'd say you lost your chance at any hold on him months ago. Goodnight, my dear." _Click._

He turned about in his office chair to gaze upon the wall of magma just to his left. It twisted, contorted, shied from Karon's patented protective glass, approached it yet again, writhed in an unending dance of light and heat. Perfection.

But… time for one more call.

"What happened?" Speak of the devil, and out of breath by the sound of it. Saulus could not help but sign in disappointment; he had indeed hoped Red would have picked up the line instead of her superior.

"Calm down. I only want to ask how the latest batch is coming along."

"The girl is taking far longer than we anticipated. Red intends to contact her tomorrow after the Battle event."

"I see. So you did have a specific deadline in mind?"

"Of course! Just as we assumed it was far too tight for the magnitude of our plans. We simply estimated that she would have delivered at this point. A generous estimate, might I remind you."

"Ah. Well, stick to the schedule in that case. I want a full report when you've collected a sufficient sample."

"You need not worry. Our backup plan, should even the girl fail, has already reached completion. You should be thrilled to learn that the billions we invested in the Piranha project are beginning to return."

"Splendid. I'd say the man's earned a holiday."

"Noted. His kart's been performing averagely in this cup. Perhaps a bye will give him a chance to juice up. A well-deserved one, considering the samples he's had to—"

"Discuss this with me in person, Dry Bones."

"Of course, your Majesty. Is there anything else…?"

"Not from my end."

"Ah. Then I'd best return to my current task, if you don't mind."

"Not utterly."

_Click_.

How sad he always felt at those _click_s. They always meant the same thing—another person gone, gone away to do things more important than chatting with him. No one ever wanted to see him more than absolutely necessary these days.

He did not blame them. They always either knew too little, or far too much for their own good.

In the meantime, however, he turned his gaze to the news program pulled up on his flatscreen.

"_For the first time in over thirteen years, ladies and gentlemen_," the shell-shocked announcer called over the din of racing fans behind her, "_two karts are officially tied at the quarter-way point of this summer's All-Cup. Judges have determined that the Honeycoupe kart from Team Mario will have to face Team Banshee's Turbo Birdo in Battle. The two karts' cumulative times matched down not to the fourth, nor fifth, but _sixth_ decimal place, if you can believe it…"_

"What have you _done_," Saulus breathed, entranced. Team Banshee held no special place in his heart, but for a kart to tie perfectly with another was quite the rare occurrence indeed. And Rosalina had never been one to seek out extra attention from sports media.

He did legitimately enjoy the All-Cup races. Grand parties, the lot of them. Racing had never, ever been his forte.

Unlike Rex.

Saulus closed his eyes in pious remembrance of his lost brother. Such a good man. He had been.

Three soft knocks on his door. That time already?

"Enter." He began pulling up the folders he needed on his screen, folders whose contents no one—save for himself—had seen, and lived long after.

Four heavy, heavy footsteps. The creak of the door shutting back into place. Ragged breathing.

"D'you have any food," his nephew rasped from behind his back. The king inhaled sharply, taken aback on several levels. Kid sounded godawful.

"Help yourself to the cabinet." Saulus jerked one thumb over his shoulder, glancing over the files one final time. It never hurt to prep, in case of a potential pop quiz.

"Food. Not alcohol."

"There's food. Ask and ye shall receive, kiddo." Just before closing the folder, however, Saulus halted. Hesitated.

"Thanks."

_Oh._

Saulus turned to face his nephew for the first time that evening and nearly retched.

On first inspection, the boy could have passed as comfortable, relaxed even, leaning back into the plush sofa as he wolfed down slices of summer sausage and olives, his gaze withdrawn and clouded. His suit was appropriately dark, with one inch of deep red shirt visible past the coat sleeves, bronze and garnet cuff links glinting in the low lighting. He had even braided a section of his hair in the old family style—no lie, that threw him a little. _Surely_ Rex had not cared enough for the old traditions to pass even this trivial one onto his son. Surely. Yet, who else…?

But, no. It was all _wrong_. The kid looked close to death, his cheeks hollow and his pallor ghostly. The bags under his eyes belonged on someone twice his age, and in the center of a crisis. His hands shook, and violently at that.

"Need to chat?"

Bowser licked his lips. "You're the one who called me up. _You_ need to chat?"

"I called you up to check in on you. Need to chat?"

A flicker of a smile. "I'm losing my team."

"Not according to current stat—"

"You can't quantify everything." He ripped open another sausage. Saulus made a mental note to stock far more for next time if the kid liked them so much.

"Quality issue?"

"Been too caught up in the rest of this shit. Haven't paid enough attention to them. We're losing a kart after this cup. Unavoidable." More machine-gun fire than words.

Saulus whistled. "_Really_. Fight with a teammate?"

Bowser chewed for a while, his eyes growing overcast. Saulus uncapped a brass fountain pen and scrawled a few notes on paper. Memos, reminders, the usual.

"Not a fight. They joined in the first place under the assumption they'd be leaving within a few years. I just didn't—didn't think it'd happen this soon."

"Need a drink?"

Moment of silence. "Yeah."

Chuckling, Saulus motioned to a third refrigerated cabinet adjacent to Bowser's spot on the sofa. "Help yourself."

He stood up and stretched as his nephew dug through its contents, his motions languid and subtle. Out came a glass bottle of scotch.

"That kind of night, eh?" Saulus leaned back into an armchair, opening a box of Delfino cigars.

"No thanks to you." Bowser pulled two glasses onto the coffee table and unstopped the bottle.

"Your honesty is appreciated, if somewhat flawed."

"Yeah?" His nephew slid one glass over to his uncle before continuing to slice the sausage. Not with any knife the king could remember ever owning. "Then who's sharing with you?"

"The woman you met at the Gala dinner," Saulus grinned, exhaling smoke. "Since I doubt you spend much time going over current events."

"I spend my time practicing for my career," Bowser pointed out, taking a swig of scotch. "The one I actually plan on keeping."

"Immune from the lure of government, huh. How noble."

"Haven't we already had this conversation? Are you gonna strangle me again?"

"Not without due cause, kid."

"Then tell me why that woman is ruining my day." The words were measured, substantial. Not a request.

"She intends to kill me. Your last living relative. Figured even you would have some type of vested interest."

Bowser licked his lips, an unfamiliar glint shining in his eyes. "Kill you? Not just throw a coupe?"

"She knows I can single-handedly squash a coupe. You can guess how."

"What, with your super strength? I know roids have that empowering, uh, effect, but—"

Saulus had to laugh. He had to. It burst from his gut, almost without his permission, as though the kid had literally punched it out of him. "Steroids are for peasants, kid. Thought you'd learned from your city rival."

"I have. I did. So, what, not just super strength?"

_Here we go_.

"Super strength is a…a polite way to put it. Less polite? I'm a walking weapon of mass destruction."

"That's nice. Expecting me to bow down?"

"People show their respect in a myriad of ways. Some plot to kill me outright, though doing so would only make me a martyr for my kind; others plot in secret, using those I love most as weapons against me."

There. It was done. The look on his nephew's face—enraged, terrified, disbelieving, anxious, and utterly downhearted, all in the span of one second before going completely slack—confirmed it so. He sipped his scotch, remaining silent. Even Saulus knew how to give respect. It was one of his few strong points, Kingfin had once informed him.

"You think Rosalina wants to kill you?" It came out in a whisper, likely to hide a cracked and shaking voice.

"Think? _Think_? Oh, dear, dear." Saulus kneaded his forehead. "_This_ is why I'm starting you at such a young age. This is the type of thing they will never teach you, not in any fine law school in the country, on the planet, or any other. This is not theory…not a lesson, not practice. I have brought you into my world for a multitude of reasons, this being one of the main few."

Bowser worked his jaw, staring hopelessly at his crystal scotch glass. "Why her?"

"Why do you think?"

"What, that she'll win the kingdom back if I kill you for her? If no one else can pin the blame down on her? Bullshit. If she wanted the throne in the first place she wouldn't have passed her heir status onto P—"

"And I suppose she told you this herself," Saulus murmured, suddenly feeling quite tired. After draining his scotch, he began to push himself out of the chair and onto his feet. "Feel free to believe everything she says to you, Rex. Keep coming to see me. I don't know how you find time to make an audience with her, but have no fear of me making any attempt to spy." He cracked his neck. Ah, much better.

"Why the hell should I believe you?"

Saulus returned to his desk, alerting two Shy Guys of his permission to enter the room. He had certainly hoped that this week's visit would have lasted longer; nonetheless, the boy had given him everything in a fraction of the estimated time. No need to beat a dead Goomba. "The same reason you believe her."

Bowser laughed through his nose but for once did not immediately mouth off. Refreshing.

"Escort him home safely," Saulus ordered the two agents once they had made their silent entrance.

"Hang on." Bowser held one hand up; the Shy Guys turned to Saulus, awaiting his permission to kill.

"Leave him be," he quickly ordered.

"What'd you mean by your kind?"

"Excuse me?" Had he actually said that? Oh ho ho.

"When you said…a martyr…for your kind, yeah? What kind are you?"

Saulus gestured for the Shy Guys to follow their original order. "You'll find out," he called as the hooded servants marched his nephew out of the room. "Good luck this weekend."

That he could promise easily enough.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

_Thunk._

_Thunk._

_No coincidence. Only a matter of time._

"I fucking know that, Petey." Birdo continued to throw knives into the wall. _Thunk._

Yoshi paused his game session to look her in the eye. "We're gonna be fine. Her comet power is useless outside of a race environment. And vice versa for us. We're an offensive team, and they have no defense. It's in the bag."

"I know, I know. I know." _Thunk._

"What the man is _saying,_" Boo cackled through his cigar, "is do you _believe_. We all know you know. But do you believe it?"

"Shut up, Ridley." _Thunk._

"Petey's saying the opposite." Diddy flipped through another karting magazine, his long legs kicked up onto the coffee table. "He says it doesn't matter whether you're better or not."

"Yeah?" Boo glared daggers at the teenager. "You a better translator than me?"

"He's on it," Diddy's uncle called from the kitchenette. "Ain't he, Pete?"

_Let me nap. Long week coming up._

"Aight," Yoshi murmured before returning to his video game.

Birdo closed her eyes, having run out of knives. If _only_ the league had a public document or board or something, anything, listing the racers' special Items. Instead of mass-guessing and these endless hours of staring at footage. How else were they to know what tools they'd have at their disposal tomorrow? Leave it to the highest-informed kart to land in Battle with them.

_Fuck._

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

There was some small, quivering, shameful part of Bowser that danced for joy within him when he realized that _he_ would not have to fight in this upcoming Battle. Not this time, at least, but surely this merited some type of celebration.

And not because of Yoshi and Birdo's presence. Those two he would happily take on. Offensively, their two karts were all but perfectly matched.

Koopa jumped on him immediately. "We are so pregaming this."

Daisy sipped into the boys' room. "Are ya'll _watching_ this? Am I the only one who's mildly terrified of what's gonna go down?"

"Do we have to buy tickets for this?" Toadette called from the girls' bathroom. "Or do racers have automatic invites?"

"Yeah, we don't gotta pay," Wario answered, eyes clouding over—likely from attempting to calculate the odds of either side winning.

"_Bowser_," Baby hissed at him from the bathroom, the door cracked just open enough for one amber eye to pierce through.

Bowser shot him a quizzical look. The younger redhead glared daggers at him, gesturing for him to come over.

"_What_?" he whispered, leaning against the counter as Baby slid the door shut.

Baby pointed wordlessly to the paintbrush in his other hand—the fat one Bowser had given him over a week ago, its bristles still sleek in spite of being mashed against every possible surface that time had allowed Baby since he had received it.

"Yeah? What you want me to do, s—?" Bowser's words evaporated, however, once Baby pointed at the mirror behind him.

But it was not the mirror alone that merited his sudden stop. Upon it, a vivid neon streak of light, about three inches thick and curved off at the ends, glowed at him from the wall.

"WHA—the_ fuck_," he rasped after Baby cut his scream short with a jab from his elbow. "_How?"_

"_I don't _know," he silently shrieked, clearly ready to panic. "_Just—the brush just started working, no warning—_"

"You don't know what you did differently?" he murmured, mystified.

"I _don't_! I was just shaving and looking at myself in the mirror and remembered how it had glowed in that peripheral garage back last week and—" Baby's eyes darted all over the place as he paced. "Look, look at how it spreads."

Bowser watched, awestruck, as Baby lifted the brush again to the mirror's surface. With another stroke, the single glowing line became a tilted X shape.

"Hey," he muttered, narrowing his eyes. "That thick part—in the middle—" Bowser shifted his gaze, then his position, noting how the dark middle section of the graffiti increased in size as time passed.

"What are you _doing?"_ Baby hissed, trembling.

Bowser gingerly lifted one hand up and forward, brushing his fingertips against the paint. And paint it was, cool and suspiciously fluid. He had indeed half-expected some of it to come off on him once he pulled his hand away, yet still jumped when he indeed noted the splotch on his fingertips. Orange, yellow, lime green, electric blue—

"It faded away," he breathed, his hand suddenly shaking violently. Sure enough, the teeny portion of the bright paint that had made it onto his skin dissipated within seconds.

_Holy _shit_, _Baby breathed next to him. _What do we do_?

Knocking came from the door, startling the two of them. Then Toad's voice—"What are you two _doing_ in there? I better not have to clean that shower later if you decided to—"

"Shut up, we'll be out soon," Bowser yelled back, desperately hoping to come off as normal, if annoyed.

_Water_? he mouthed to Baby. The redhead shrugged and turned on the faucet. Bowser's eyes widened as the droplets Baby flung against the paint removed all of it—nearly all of it—

"_How come the center's not fading?!" _

"_I don't know!_" Baby collected more water onto his hand and pressed it against the remaining dark section of paint. His jaw dropped—Bowser's, too, he would end up suspecting later—when his fingers pushed _in_.

"Is that a hole?" Had it become acid, and burnt a hole in the mirror—?

"_HELP_!" Baby screamed. Bowser reached for Baby's arm, grabbing his wrist just in time for the glowing colors edging the dark splotch to completely envelope them in vivid neon light.

Just as he heard the bathroom door open—and the spluttering screams of Toad, Daisy, and Toadette—everything faded into darkness.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"_Disappeared_?" Lee all but shrieked into his cell phone. Rosalina glanced at him, shooting him a look. _Please_ _don't be who I think you are,_ she prayed.

"I—I dunno—I gotta tell her, she's right here—" Lee all but threw his cell phone at her. "It's Toadette!"

"_Toadette's been kidnapped?_" she hissed, feeling a familiar, horrifying heat bubble up inside. Forget that conversation with the King—this was war.

"No!" Lee quickly replied, almost abating her fury. Almost. "Toadette's on the phone! She says Bowser and another of their teammates disappeared into a—I dunno—_talk_ to her, okay?!"

"What's happened?" she barked into the phone, refusing to let the heat melt away just yet. Bowser had potentially been compromised.

"What do you know about magic paintbrushes?!" Toadette yelped at the other end of the line.

"Magic—_excuse_ me?"

"I know this is going to sound crazy," the girl shrieked from the other end, "but I think Bow and—and Toad's partner Baby—disappeared, or at least warped somewhere or—is that possible? If anyone would get that it'd be you, right? Since you engineered the warp stars…?"

"Warp stars, yes," Rosalina whispered, "but did you just ask about a _paintbrush_?"

"I don't know if he told you already or not, but Bow got one in will left to him by—Rosalina, he said it was straight from Elvin Gadd. Please tell me you're not the only one who thinks this is no good."

Oh, _heavens_. Rosalina sat down. "Did Bowser tell you how he found out about this? Who passed it onto him?"

"He didn't, but we had a theory—Toad, Toad, c'mere—"

Shuffling sounds. Toadette had passed the phone on. "Is this Rosalina?" Similar voice, if only a tad deeper.

"This is she. You're Toadette's… friend?"

"Thank you for remembering," he replied coolly. "I'd bet my clutch hand that Bow's been visiting family. He brought _that_ home one night after heading into town for an hour or so and gave it to my partner. To…his name's Kupa Junieo, but we call him Baby…"

"Brought home what? The words I heard were 'magic paintbrush,' so forgive me if I sound confused."

"We can only assume it's a warping device," the boy continued all too calmly. "Unfortunately, neither Bow nor Baby had their cell phones on them at the time, so we have no way of finding out where they are—and, wherever they are, they're stranded."

Rosalina kneaded her forehead. This literally had to be the last thing she needed right now. "Don't panic. I'm going to commence a satellite search. I would not blame you at all if you kept this from the police from the time being."

"You got that right. Toadette's given me and Daisy von Sarasa your number, if that's okay. We're going to contact a few friends we have back at home in case they wound up on other continents. Not much we can do about outer space, though." To Toad's credit, his voice only shook once near the end.

"That's fine. Keep me updated. But something tells me that Gadd's device wouldn't take anyone too far from that island."

"Yeah? You got any reasoning behind that theory?"

"He once ran a lab in the offices below Mount Corona, if I recall correctly. Though this was decades ago. I suppose now it's all government offices."

"Huh. We'll keep that in mind. Keep us posted."

"Will do. Tell your…tell Toadette not to worry."

"Got it."

She handed the phone back to Lee before summoning Polari.

"I heard the whole thing," he called from across the engine room before she even opened her mouth. "Shall we begin a satellite flush?"

"Might as well," she responded, her mind spinning with different impending plans of action. "Actually, I want you to narrow it to these six places first. Something tells me we'll be saving a lot of time and energy."

Polari glanced over the coordinates before smoothly raising a single eyebrow. "So Gadd _was_ up to something wicked in his final hours, Highness?"

Rosalina closed her eyes. "Wicked…no, not likely. He did always prefer fun."

"Fun." Polari clicked his tongue. "Useful fun. Practical fun. I don't like this."

"And you think I do?"

"Patience, Highness. I need not remind you of what eyes may lurk within our halls. A sudden jump in emotion over a Daimaō boy with whom you share a collision course…"

"Hush. Begin scanning."

"Of course, Princess."

Rosalina crossed her arms, setting a hopefully deadpanned gaze toward the largest three engine room screens. "This had better work."

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Also, I've opened an Archive of Our Own account for more mature-rated entries under this same name. The only fic up now is an Avengers one-shot, but if you ship FrostIron then you may want to take a peek.

But in the meantime I've decided to return my focus to this story here. Everything else will wait until Firefly is complete! Only a handful more chapters to go on this one, might I add.


	19. Skyscraper

Ohmygod an update. Thanks for still hanging with me thus far, whoever you are.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Eighteen

Thank hell for sunglasses, Red thought as she stood alone upon the helipad. The desert sun glared, merciless and menacing, but ultimately fell to her gunmetal-framed purple beasts.

She was ready for the arrival of her boss, as usual. Felt somewhat irritated, as usual. Found herself craving a hammock, ideally with a strong Hurricane and a book. As usual.

Even if the _usual_ had ceased taking place since over a week ago, thanks to the obtrusive scheduling of the All-Cup events.

The helicopter landed more slowly and smoothly than she honestly wished, its occupant clearly in no hurry whatsoever as he chatted merrily with the Fly Guy pilot before swinging one long leg out. Red cleared her throat.

"Doctor. We've just observed a spike."

"In what? Be specific, dear. Which test subject, or…?"

"A satellite scan, Doctor. The king's pet project, to be specific."

Dry Bones' needle-thin eyebrows shot up his forehead in an instant. "Do tell."

Red smiled—grimaced, really, not that the average bystander would have been able to discern—and turned about, her stride steady as ever. On she led her boss, downstairs into the gorgeous glass-paneled top floor atrium, into the private elevator and down, down, into its infamous basement.

"If it comforts you at all, my dear," Dry Bones laughed as they continued down the steel halls, "I won't say that this was completely unanticipated. I'm quite pleased you knew well enough to alert me to this matter first."

She pretended his words warmed her. Much-needed warmth it was at that; as they descended further, the temperature dropped at a disproportionately quick rate. Through the Shy Guy splicing room, dormant for the time being; past the tank room they walked, basking briefly in the acid-green glow flooding through the glass panels in the otherwise solid metal doors. Past the server fields, where the change in air pressure made her ears pop. Sharp left, then a right turn two long corridors later.

An elaborately locked set of plexiglass sliding doors barred them from their destination, but two time-based geometric passwords and a voice recognition scan later and they were in. Dry Bones whistled at the largest screen, a nine-foot LCD in the dead center of the largest computer bank against the far wall. It showed multiple readings all stemming from a single glowing image: A long, thin line stretched across the bottom with a single upward spike just before the very end. Half a heartbeat.

Or a smaller fraction of something much, much bigger.

She watched her colleague shiver, his enormous smile all chattering teeth and darting tongue. _Nutcase_.

"What could cause the cells to activate so abruptly? It's not the height of this activity that's bugging me so much as the slope—am I making sense?"

"Oh, you're right, you're right as usual, my dear. I'd say external stimuli is to blame; something is mingling with the blood from without. Oh, goodness, I daresay the King may not be entirely pleased."

"Sir?"

"Oh, listen to me, cackling ceaselessly about our beloved Saulus' lack of foresight. Pray tell, has he—or your husband—ever brought up to you the subject of our late friend Rex's passing?"

"Nothing from Saulus," she admitted. "But Kuro says he only wishes he could have witnessed what exactly it was that killed the poor man, and April, of course. But even to this day, it feels so…surreal."

Dry Bones' fingers drummed against his black leather folder. Just once. "And why is that?"

"He didn't elaborate. I assume he feels grief—that he was not around to stop it."

"Yes, yes. But surreal, you say? Surreal how?"

"I don't know if I've put it to words before, to be honest," she sighed. "But I can't seem to shake the feeling that…oh, you're going to laugh, I'd best quit while I'm ahead—"

"Oh, no, continue, dearest, by all means! I promise you'll not regret it."

Huh. Red cleared her throat. "It sometimes feels to me that they're not gone. Something in the air, perhaps, but I can't quite say—that charge we would always feel around those two—sometimes I can swear to myself that it's still here, even where I know they are not."

Karon laughed contentedly and continued to eye the small, thin spike in the line chart onscreen. "Be a dear and check on ROB's calibration, if you don't mind. We only have one day here until after another two weeks, and had better make it worthwhile."

"Of course. Need a drink? Coffee? I can get the Shy Guys to get—"

"A drink! A drink. _Skelécarlate_, my darling, pick your favorite champagne from the atrium case on your way back here. Please. Tonight, we celebrate the end of an era most foul."

Red giggled accordingly on her way out, making a show of typing the note into her smartphone. She was pretty sure a single bottle of Phyllis' Sap Syrup still remained back in there. Somewhere_._

Ten seconds later, Kuro messaged her back.

_Keep an eye on him. Rosalina may have more to answer for than even she knows._

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

_Thud_.

_Yeowch!_—Bowser rubbed the joint of his neck and shoulder, rolling into a crouched position on the solid ground—floor? Were they indoors?

Absolute darkness. So, possibly.

At least they were breathing, and gravity felt somewhat normal as the spinning in his head slowly ceased. Either the blue planet, or another that had the same exact traits, or some colonized space with appropriate synthetic g-force and pressurizing. Fine with him.

"_Baby_," he hissed. "You there?"

"Y-yeah—the _fuck_ was that—?"

Bowser whipped around to face the source of Baby's croaked response—there. Just a few yards away, the glowing tip of Baby's paintbrush shifted along a gradient of neon color, just barely illuminating the few inches of space around it.

Bowser gingerly tiptoed over, lest he trip on something in the dark. "You okay?"

"Help me up. _Crap, _that hurt."

After giving Baby a hand, Bowser glanced around once more. "You broken anywhere? Bleeding?"

"No, just bruised, I think. Yeah, lemme use this to look around…" Baby carefully raised the brush up to shoulder level—his, at least. Bowser kept one hand clamped firmly on the teenager's shoulder, still wary.

The next few seconds were deathly quiet, save for the scuffling of their steps as they covered more ground. They almost immediately hit a wall—okay. Okay. Progress.

"We're in a room. Concrete…wait, here's a—a bulletin board?" Were they in an office? A school?

"Bow, we've been here before." A loud crack of a noise, a slap? Flesh on flesh—"I'm an _idiot_!"

"What—?"

"We're in the _lab_. Gadd's lab, the one in the Mach 6 garage—"

"You're shitting me." But once they felt along more of the wall, Baby's statement indeed proved correct. After coming in contact with the huge wall-long shelves they had explored before, Bowser felt brave enough to head toward where he remembered the light switches protruded—near the entrance.

"Gonna turn the light on, brace yourself."

"'Kay."

Bowser grimaced as the fluorescent lights popped and flickered on overhead, cutting through the soothing dark without mercy. "Damn, you were right."

"Look at this, Bow. I think it's how we got here."

"Huh?" He walked over to where Baby stood inspecting a small glowing patch on the wall opposite the ceiling-high shelves. A faint neon scribble, no more than a few inches long, shimmered at them in rapidly changing supersaturated colors. "What the hell?"

"We came out this end, Bow! I was thinking of this place when I was painting that mirror—and I'd scribbled here before, with the brush! It makes sense!"

"It does?" Bowser wrinkled his brow, still dumbfounded by the whole warping thing.

"It does! Do you have any _idea _of how powerful this thing could be? And the fact that Gadd—that Gadd made this…" Baby looked up at him, his gaze fierce. "Who knows what kind of stuff the FBR decided they felt like keeping? What if this is just the tip of the iceberg?!"

"Yeah, this is exactly the kind of shit I need in my life right now." Bowser kneaded his forehead, deeply regretting having gotten out of bed that morning.

"Yeah, I know, but try to keep it in mind, maybe? Like I know that warping isn't…completely uncommon, I mean, Toad's gotten to visit the Mushroom City system base before… I know it's how Petey got here, if Boo wasn't lying that time we all got drunk together—"

"I'm trying to forget that that happened," Bowser spat, gazing idly at the glowing scribble on the wall. "But this thing? It blows all the other warp systems out of the water. Those things are enormous. Rosalina has the most efficient one and it's still got teams of engineers that have to stay on-site to keep it from imploding on itself, or worse."

"And now we have something with the same amount of power…only, it can fit in a suitcase. Damn it, Bow…" Baby rocked from side to side, deep in thought. "We probably shouldn't be broadcasting around that we have this thing. _Shit_, what if the others have called the police?!"

Bowser snapped to action. "Then we gotta cover our tracks. There's a phone here…" Good thing he'd had Koopa's number memorized.

"Oh. Yeah." Baby rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

"Let's hope no one freaked out overmuch."

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Toadette sighed to herself, leaning back into her seat in Daisy's Jeep, the conditioned air spilling over her ankles and calves as Daisy broke six levels of traffic law on the way to the Lakitu's Mach 6 garage from their hotel.

Bowser's voice soothed her from the other end of the cell phone against her ear. Not gone. Alive, and here. Or, close to here. They were on their way. She wiped the last of her tears from the corner of her eyes—_dang_.

When was the last time she'd cried for someone? Had she ever?

That had been terrifying. But Bowser was alive, and well enough to talk. To her. He'd asked for her first. Gosh.

"_Please_ tell me you didn't call the cops—"

"We didn't! I wanted to," Toadette admitted, attempting to rub heat back into her skin where it had prickled in fear. The hairs on the back of her neck still felt as though they stood on end. "But Toad called Rosalina instead."

"No shit? You call her back yet?"

"They started her Battle prep session thirty minutes ago! There's no way we can contact her at this point! We _might_ get a break right before the event starts tonight, but…"

"How much does she know?"

Toadette's eyes narrowed at the speed of Bowser's words—he was worried. But about what? _What problem would he have with Rosalina knowing? She's trying to protect us!_

"We just told her…we thought you'd warped. I think Toad mentioned the paint bru—"

"_Fuck_—"

"Bow?!"

"No—no, it's okay, Toadette, don't worry." But Bowser seemed unwilling to take his own words to heart. "How close are you? Traffic too terrible?"

"TRAFFIC CAN SUCK MY COCK," Daisy bellowed from the Jeep's front seat. Bowser chortled. Toadette relaxed, just a bit. Had to laugh. Needed to.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"How much you think the hotel's gonna fine us for this?" Koopa laughed as Bowser removed the mirror from the bathroom wall.

"Like I give a shit. We can't let other people know about this until after we at least figure out what the hell is going on." As though some universe existed wherein he couldn't afford whatever money the hotel would want for their stolen mirror. But where to put it? No point in trying to wrap it. "Just be as careful as possible around this thing, unless you feel like explaining to a Mach 6 janitor how you got in without being spotted."

"I hear ya." Koopa helped him carry the mirror out into the main living area of their suite. Its thick, gold-leafed frame lent to it a heaviness Bowser was not quite sure he appreciated at this point in time. "Still, this is the coolest fucking thing I've ever witnessed in my life. I kinda like having a secret, y'know? Something I get to guard."

"What about the paint brush? You sure you don't want to keep this locked somewhere?" Baby asked, perched on the breakfast bar. Toad sat in an adjacent bar stool, his face buried in Baby's lap.

Now there was a memory Bowser wasn't too sure he'd ever forget: Toad's red-rimmed eyes as he'd bolted into the peripheral garage ahead of everyone else. Bloodshot and glistening. Furious, and relieved, he could imagine.

"I want you to keep ahold of it," he replied, having thought this over once he'd exited the King's Corona Mountain office only the night before. "The King knows what it does, I think, but I doubt he could get it to work. So if he gets wind of the fact that I'm related…"

"Then what? He already declared you his heir," Toad cut in. "You think he'd take it away from you instead of keeping you in charge of it?"

"Something like that," he answered automatically. He wished Toadette were here, rather than wherever she'd gone with her brother—_God_. "Wario?" he bellowed over to the next suite.

"Yah? T'cha need?"

"Where'd Louie and the other three go, d'you know?"

"Last day at the beach, so you can-a probably guess," came a chortled reply.

_Fine_. Besides, Bowser wasn't lonely. He was surrounded by people who adored him. He didn't miss Toadette profusely even though she'd been gone for less than an hour. Nope. "Any word from the MKNN official betting?"

"It's looking like fifty-fifty still," Paratroopa answered from the same area. "But voting goes on for another few hours. When are heading over?" She had taken a serious interest in calculating tourney statistics since Wario had mentioned it to her back before the All-Cup had even begun.

"Nine. So the others had better get back by then," he grumbled, gingerly setting the mirror on a suitcase rack hidden in the back closet. Koopa slammed the door shut with a less-than-satisfying _thud_.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Skyscraper.

The name, while innocuous enough without any context, held the hard-to-find ability to strike utter terror into the hearts of a select percentage of Mushroom City racers. The hearts of the veterans, the souls who remembered Battle. The survivors, and those who had witnessed such matches before they had been all but eliminated from tourney schedules. For racer safety. It had been that bad.

Bowser continued trying to ignore the fact that Toadette had all too happily run off with Daisy and Louie so soon after she had practically jumped on him in the Mach 6, shrieking at him to never warp without warning them again or something of the nature. Presently she sat on his shoulder with her cell phone to her ear, occasionally stroking his hair as they prepared to watch the action go down from the racer viewing lounge. Talking to Petey, he supposed.

The club sections merely formed a fraction of the floating, ring-shaped stadium seats hovering just over the roof of the infamous Battle ground, with only the most expensive sections glassed off from the fumes of gasoline and burnt rubber.

"Lee! God, I didn't think I'd be able to get ahold of you until tomorrow! Tell Rosalina it's okay. We have him," Toadette squealed into her phone. _Oh_.

The response from the other line came out too softly for Bowser to perceive, but Toadette seemed pleased with whatever came out nonetheless, giggling like a child. "Okay, okay. Good luck. Not that you need it!"

"You are sweet on him," Bowser jeered as she snapped her phone shut. "You just don't know it yet."

"Hush. Rosalina was worried sick about you, by the way. I was afraid she was gonna send a space army here and wreck everything looking for you and Baby. Lee said something about satellite sweep…"

"Christ." But of course. Bowser tried in vain to formulate a response to that, but—well—

He wanted to trust Rosalina. So very much. She was, had always been, the only one to know enough about everything—everything, even beyond the incident. His parents, yeah. His team, before they had risen so.

Peach.

The overhead lights suddenly blackened out, and the resulting din of the audience nearly popped Bowser's ears. Two Fly Guys airlifted Yoshi's and Rosalina's karts from adjacent buildings and slowly lowered them onto opposite sides of the stage.

"_BowserohmygoshI'msoexcited!"_

"Me too, me too," he laughed, squeezing her hand.

The countdown lights appeared, hushing the crowds; it was a taboo act, disturbing any chance for the racers to get a good rocket start, whether carved into stone or not. Three balloons appeared behind each kart, as if floating into existence on their own accord. If strings were what fastened each to the karts' rear bumpers, then Bowser could not tell from the distance; he was almost sure they were coded by magic at this point, their faint ghostly glows—neon pink for the Turbo Birdo, electric blue for the Honeycoupe—failing to dispel his theory for him.

The instant the three red lights flashed to green, the two karts blasted off in opposite directions, avoiding that death trap of a pit in the dead center of the battleground.

The Skyscraper arena was beautiful, he supposed, in its own harsh and frigid way. The neatly organized canvas of the arena—really a dartboard of ground and bottomless pit and nothing in between, with four short pathways connecting to two rings of concrete track—held no obstacles, no barriers behind which one could hope to hide. The outer ring of track only had barriers inward, with nothing to brace against flying off the other edge. Yellow and black caution stripes lent the entirety of the field's color to otherwise somber gray asphalt.

"What happens if they fall off the top?" Toadette asked. "Is there a penalty?"

"They never told you about Battle in the labs?" Bowser replied, genuinely surprised.

"Why would they? The odds required to run a Battle are so crazy small…"

"Yeah, true." Bowser swallowed, watching Rosalina snag a double Item box. Just bananas; Luma tossed his first, and to Bowser's surprise Rosalina actually tossed her Item back to her Thrower rather than switching positions with him to launch it herself. Skill.

"There's almost no guard rails at all," Toadette breathed, grasping clumps of his hair in anxiety. "That's so scary!"

"Yeah. But at least if they fall off, they just lose a balloon. Not the end of the game. Not that anyone would want a memory of plummeting off the top of a fifteen-hundred foot tower…" Or so he liked to think.

"So… the last one to keep all their balloons wins?"

"Got it in one. That's why a bunch of Items are restricted from Battle, like triple red shells and the blue Spiney. Don't want the game to finish too quickly."

Intense, this game. It was almost as though the racers had exp—_no_, Bowser stopped himself. Rosalina wouldn't rig a race. Neither Yoshi nor Birdo had the power. Rosalina—Rosalina could have, without a doubt, but—she _wouldn't_—

And if she did… why would it matter? The Battle was only for a single slot in ranking—not huge at all in the grand scheme of things, especially only a quarter of a way into the tourney.

Toadette tapped his shoulder, startling him from his thoughts. "Bow?"

"Sup?"

"You…" Toadette inhaled, slowly. "Everything okay?"

He closed his eyes, not sure if he wanted to be completely honest, even and especially with Toadette right now.

"Yeah. Just tired. Long day."

No response. Bowser returned his gaze to the fight, where Yoshi and Birdo expertly dodged a barrage of green shells from Luma. Damn.

"Anybody want food?" Wario called. "This might be the last time we get any fresh Pianta fruit until December," he laughed.

"Aw snap. Someone gimme a durian and a…Para, whatcha want—"

"Banana…strawberry…orangemelongrapedidyou _see_ that?!" Bowser's words ran together as the events on the Battlefield ignited. That had been _close_—Yoshi had drawn triple Green shells, but Rosalina had swerved just carefully enough to avoid one seemingly by a hair, banking hard to the left and out onto the outermost ring of the arena. Three balloons still remained on each side. Bowser exhaled in relief.

"This isn't fucking Fruits of Doom, okay—"

Bowser laughed. "Just tell me what you want and I'll get them." Koopa handed him a few coins. "Sorry, Toadette, unless you wanna come with…"

She pouted, sliding down into the floor as he stepped away from the railing. "Aww, there goes my nice view."

Bowser laughed. "Nah. Wario, c'you—?"

"Not a problem," he replied, hoisting Toadette onto his own shoulder. Toadette giggled from the jump before accepting a handful of popcorn from the box Wario held up to her. Bowser nodded and headed back inside. Better to get food earlier than later.

The crowds raged even from the vendor halls, as no one needed worrying over missing out on the action what with enormous screens portraying the Battle live between each food booth.

Huge lines. Bowser sighed and leaned against the brick wall along which spectators stood, turning his attention to the screens. So far, so good. Battle was a careful game of cat-and-mouse; even with a surefire Item, attacking one's opponent head-on would leave one defenseless and easy to hit.

"Rooting for someone in particular?"

Bowser blinked a few times before realizing the question was posed toward him. He glanced to his left to find the asker: a very tall, not quite middle-aged man with shimmering blue eyes. The finery of his dress pants and pinstriped waistcoat contrasted vividly from the attire of the others queued up for race refreshments. Bowser mentally bet that a pocket watch lurked from somewhere within.

But clothing aside, he struck Bowser with a sudden wave of nostalgia—though for what, he could not quite name. He had seen this person before. Where?

"Not sure. I know the Turbo Birdo kart's racers pretty well." Was there any point in keeping quiet about Rosalina, now that his uncle had hinted that he knew of their meetups? Or was there more at stake than even he knew?! Mindboggling, all this crap.

"And not the other?"

Fuck. "We've met, once or twice, I think." He shrugged. "She's a good racer. Don't know much about the Thrower."

The man laughed, his gales warm and cheery. "All of you deserve praise. Best of luck in the next heat."

"Thanks." Bowser chewed his tongue. "Do I...have we met?"

"Ha. Once in your memory, I believe. Twice in mine."

Well, now.

"Yeah? Where?" And why exactly had Bowser's heart rate skyrocketed so?

"Oh, numerous places, all in a very short amount of time. I believe it's the _when_ that may matter more to you than the _where_, young prince."

Wow, if that wasn't cryptic as fuck—_wait_.

"D'you work for my uncle?" he breathed, starting to entertain the notion of finding a completely different Delfino booth even if he'd have to cross to the other side of the stands.

"Not at all, Highness. I work for a higher jurisdiction altogether…" Laughter, again. Bowser seriously did not want to have to hate this guy. The list of weirdos lurking in his peripheral vision leaving creepy hints was too long already. "Though for this particular event I certainly don't mind dropping in for a closer view."

Bowser wrinkled his nose, stepping forward as the line inched along. "Well, great. Glad you can enjoy yourself."

"Enjoy, yes, at least at this moment. But occasionally duty calls me here for less lighthearted purposes."

_Here we go. _"Yeah? Like what?"

"Keeping those safe from harm who may otherwise find themselves in…undisposed predicaments."

"Can you just tell me straight what you want? I've sick of jumping over everyone's god damn agendas. Can't race in peace with you people." He cracked his neck pointedly.

"Seeing as the last time we parted ways, you ended up in a hospital for three weeks," the man replied lowly, "I feel that breaching certain subjects more lightly may be the way to go…for your sake."

_Three weeks?_ Okay, so definitely not any time within the past—past three, or was it two y—

Oh.

Oh, God.

"You were the one driving," he rasped out, feeling as though the words had been punched from his chest. "When she found me at my house—you were—"

"Avoiding Shy Guy wagons like the plague, yes," the man finished for him. "Luma Polari, Highness. Head Engineer and Navigator for the Comet Observatory."

He stuck his hand out, palm up and open, elegantly tapered fingers curling just so. Bowser could not for the life of him determine what the gesture signified—peace? Or desire? And if the latter, then for what?

"Bowser. Haven't memorized my title yet. You probably know it better than I do." A brief shake. "You really couldn't pick a better place to have this chat…?"

"Safer? Yes. More discreet? Not hardly. But if you're willing to wait until after this spectacle—" Polari winced at the action onscreen, where Rosalina and Luma had to flee yet another barrage of green shells—"Then you'll find that the Gate 9 Elevator leads to the otherwise entry-barred top floor of this building, where an early prototype sling star and I shall be waiting. Though you claim to have only met my beloved a handful of times, I can promise that one more meeting certainly wouldn't harm."

"Okay, then." He scratched the back of his head in thought. "Sling star? That code for a warping device, or what?"

"Oh, it functions exactly as it sounds, Highness," Polari laughed one final time before jauntily stepping away and disappearing in the throngs of people heading back into the stands.

_Oh, for the love of—_Bowser scoffed before finally getting to the damn food stand. "Gimme one of everything. No, three. Three of everything."

"Good thing you didn't miss anything dramatic," Koopa murmured in thanks once Bowser returned to hand out the food. "Still three-to-three. Yoshi's been super offensive, though, so as much as I hate to admit it, most of the money is probably gonna go to—"

"Agreed. Here." Bowser handed Toadette one strawberry at a time in an attempt to coax her back onto his shoulder from Wario's. There was something immensely comforting in having her weight upon him; he supposed that, compared with the other burden heaved onto his shoulder last-minute in the past month, hers was preferable by far.

"It's a miracle no one's hit even a banana yet," Paratroopa observed. "Luma's been flinging them everywhere and somehow—is that a _Bob-omb_?"

Wario and Waluigi gaped at the sight of their Special Item onstage. _Trust the fucking FBR to flaunt their power this way_, Bowser thought with a lurch of, for whatever reason, guilt.

"Birdo won't even need to aim to hit her," Wally finally eked out. "Just gotta corner her…"

"Except this stage is fucking Skyscraper. There's always a way out." Always a back door. Bowser focused, his breath hitching with each successive tire screech. Rosalina could do this. The problem was, so could Birdo.

On and on the two karts snaked, with Birdo pulling all manners of on-the-fly three-point turns and doughnuts in attempt to cut Rosalina off by surprise. But each time it looked as though the Honeycoupe had picked a predictable path, Rosalina swerved in a completely different direction, Luma launching presents behind them as they weaved in and out of the central ring.

The crowd collectively swayed when Birdo finally made contact with the Honeycoupe, having held on to the Bob-omb for so very long. Just a quick toss and a brilliant red shockwave later and Rosalina's kart tumbled out onto the outer ring.

Yoshi and Birdo three, Rosalina and Luma two.

"Lucky she was near the bridge, or else…" Toadette chewed her lower lip. Not as comforting as it could have been.

Baby began shouting some brief seconds later. "_Shit_, Birdo got a Star!"

Inhaling sharply, Bowser watched as Yoshi began to pursue the Honeycoupe, his kart glowing every color in invincibility and the obligatory burst in acceleration—Rosalina swerved and banked away with the greatest of ease—

_Come on_, he willed, grinding his teeth as Yoshi closed in nearer and nearer with each missed collision—two more seconds and—

"_No,_" he groaned as the Turbo Birdo's rainbow-flashing bumper made contact with the Honeycoupe's Thrower pedestal, milliseconds before the effects of the Star faded away. He pounded the railing with his fist, recalculating the odds.

"Don't get too upset yet, Bow." Paratroopa had begun typing into her smartphone—betting? Record-keeping? Bowser could ask about it later. "She's got one left. They're not gonna end it this quickly."

True. While the second blue balloon floated off into the shimmering night sky, Rosalina swung back into action, skidding through another Double Box.

"Hey, check it out," Daisy breathed, her green eyes wide. "Triple Mushrooms."

Bowser smiled in spite of himself. The Honeycoupe danced around the central ring-shaped floor of the arena, snaking just enough to keep from plummeting down the gaps in the roof toward the earth some ninety stories below.

"Bets on number of Mushrooms she'll need to take out one Balloon?"

"Oh, come on, Wally—"

"Two," Wario barked.

"Not gonna happen." Paratroopa sniffed, her fingers pausing momentarily over her phone keys. "She's still shaken up from that collision, and the Turbo Birdo is just as maneuverable…"

"Wait. Just wait." Bowser continued to watch in silence, his mouth watering as Rosalina and Luma slid into place just behind the hot pink kart. Luma juggled the three red boosts with ease, his stance grounded and fluid as the kart swerved to and fro.

The crowd roared as the kart blasted forward—one mushroom down, and Birdo pulled away with a millisecond to spare. Bowser's stomach lurched—without anything with which to collide, nothing stood to guard the Honeycoupe from flying off, and he found himself waiting for Rosalina's kart to jet off into the void—but—

"_NICE!_"

Toadette shrieked in delight as Rosalina furiously pulled a 90 degree turn while skidding off the stage, just as Luma fired the Mushroom to boost them _up _and back into safety from almost midair. They regained speed with ease, and still held the third Mushroom to boot.

Needless to say, more screaming ensued.

"_Fuck_," Bowser moaned, the physics of the situation blowing his mind. That was—okay, that was delicious. Only fools doubted Rosalina. A familiar fear curled up within him, settling in his guts for the long term. Fear, and perhaps something else entirely.

"So no go for Wario's bet!" Paratroopa cackled, wiping tears of mirth from one eye. "Mine's—mine's still in the air. Any bets on three? Damn, that was _amazing_…"

"She'll hit them. On the third. Put me for that," Bowser growled. After all, if _he_ were in this situation—if _he_ had just rocketed himself back up from the drink—

And, sure enough, "Here she comes!"

_CRUNCH_

Watching the impending collision from afar would never come close to experiencing it from the Honeycoupe's end, Bowser knew. But it was still fucking satisfying, and the close-up shot of Rosalina's and Luma's blissful faces on the scoreboard screen overhead confirmed everything.

"Aw, _snap_—!"

Two even.

"How'd she _do _that?!" Toadette yelped at the sight of Rosalina and Luma's kart. The single blue balloon remained, now joined by a pink one from Birdo's kart. "Did Lee…steal it?"

"If she'd hit him with a distance weapon or a Star, then the balloon just would've floated off like that last one," Bowser explained, laughing. "But if you can aim your boost precisely enough, you can hit your opponent and steal theirs to add it to your own score. Anyone can ram with a Star since that shit lasts ten whole seconds, but a boost is instantaneous. You have one tiny shot, so it's extra-rewarding when you hit it. It's how you can steal other karts' Items in races too, you know."

"So now they're level! That's awesome!"

"Getting vicious," Wally cackled. "Ay, Wario. Scratch Bow down for winning that last-minute bet. Not as much cash since he waited til two of the three were fired, but…"

"You two can pay me in steak later," he growled, altogether pleased with himself. Trust Rosalina to use fucking rocket science to stay on top of a kart Battle.

The two-way chase continued for quite a while, several close calls notwithstanding. Birdo looked particularly infuriated upon having lost a balloon to Rosalina rather than to the void. Even Yoshi's typically zen expression contained an eerily visible ounce of displeasure.

The dance grew faster in pace, more intense, more dizzying as time passed. Rosalina outright flew over the central gap a good handful of times, indicating she had not only hit her top speed, but could keep it constant—an anomaly for a competition with so many sharp turns and sudden swerving. But no braking, not at this point. Braking meant reducing velocity to zero, no matter for how short a time. Braking meant becoming a sitting duck.

"Is there any grace time after losing a balloon?" Toadette asked. "Like, if Rosalina gets triple green shells and can hit them twice in a row… would they count even if the succession is really rapid? Like under one second?"

"Good question," Bowser replied, his skipping a beat when he realized _he didn't know_. "Hopefully we won't have to find out. It'd cut the game too short, for starters. People'd feel ripped off if this turned into a curb-stomp."

"Mhm. Hey, tell me when you get tired and I can stand up."

Bowser laughed. "Never. But here, switch sides…" He lifted her off his left shoulder and back down onto his right. "Better."

"'kay. Hey, d'you think we could ever practice Battle after this? Y'know, in case of the future?"

"You know the odds of Battle actually happening again in our lifetime," Bowser jeered. "You really just want to try it 'cause it's a fucking party."

Toadette harrumphed loudly, "Can we practice or not?!"

"Haha. I'm sure there's a way we can set it up _somewhere_…I'll bet the Mushroom City crews might cave in if the demand for it after this tourney is high enough…"

"Ooh, good point. And we could pummel Boo and Petey since their top speed is crap compared to ours."

"Okay, _now_ you've got my attention." He squeezed her hand, ecstatic.

But a sudden roar from the audience drowned out his next thought as he caught sight of the Item forming in Birdo's hand as she and Yoshi closed in on Rosalina, cutting her off by vaulting over the central gap. She launched a rapid-fire barrage of the shells once again, cornering the Honeycoupe against the rail-less edge of the arena.

"Oh, _no—_"

Rosalina swerved to miss the shell, and miss the shell she did—only to skid off the track entirely, diving nose-first into the abyss—and, this time, with no Item to save them. Bowser felt his insides quake as they plummeted, so fast, too fast, like light speed—

_No. Calm down._

Lakitu caught their kart, sure enough; within seconds, Rosalina and Luma were lowered safely back onto the arena floor. Then again, the arena floor being _Skyscraper_, perhaps 'safely' was not too apt a description, Bowser thought with a snarl. The stolen pink balloon detached and floated off into the sky as the action continued below.

"Game point," Koopa called out dutifully. "I don't think I can fucking watch. You know what's gonna happen if Yosh' and Birdo win, don'tcha? They won't fucking live it down as long as we live. We're gonna be putting up with their bullshit every time we run into them, on the street or at a race, whatever—until the end of _time_."

"Or at least until they get challenged to another Battle, and lose," Daisy cut in, her shoulders shaking in poorly-contained laugher.

"Like I said. Til the end of time. Gyahh…"

"Hey," Bowser warned, "it's fucking Battle. They manage to get through this, win or lose, then they deserve the respect. Same for Rosalina and the Luma kid. Anybody remember the kind of injuries and crashes that would go down back before they banned them as scheduled events? Just surviving one is impressive enough, let alone winning."

Luigi nodded. "The only reason those two aren't gonna come away with PTSD from falling off the building s'probably 'cause they're used to space-jumping at this point. And even then…" He shrugged, wincing. "Scary shit."

"Still game point! I'm gonna piss myself," Koopa groaned.

Two to one, Turbo Birdo.

Bowser could feel Birdo's bloodlust in his mouth. Far away they may have been, the light in her eyes shone like a beacon, burning somehow with both confidence and unnerving, unrelenting stillness. It was the peace that came from having one's opponent reeling into the very ropes of the match, with no room to escape—one more attack. One more collision and they would emerge victorious.

But Rosalina showed no fear. Luma glanced about in a blur of motion, shoulders clearly shaking, but the space witch's hands remained firm on the wheel as she swerved through double Box after Box, avoiding obstacles and traps with ease. Over the central pit they flew, cruising at top speed wherever her plans took them.

How many minutes passed, Bowser could not tell; it was though each kart had hit a point of no return, stretching endlessly into a black hole of perfect speed and obstacle avoidance. An immovable object hit by an unstoppable projectile—but—

Rosalina smiled, and it felt like a knife to the gut—this was not a face he had ever seen her make. Something akin to cruelty curled in her lips and he felt the air burst from his lungs as the Honeycoupe pulled a doughnut at light-speed, switching from hurtling in pursuit of the Turbo Birdo to facing the pink kart head-on almost instantaneously.

It was in that single second that Bowser realized how fearing for his life may have felt.

"_Holy—_"

The audience collectively shrieked as Rosalina and Luma collided side-to-side with the Turbo Birdo in a stunning twist of a swerve, effectively shoving them off the edge of the stadium.

"_Did you see that_?"

"I haven't seen a pin play in _years_. Please tell me someone else even knows what I'm talking about…" Waluigi shuddered.

"This is insane!"

"The fuck did I just see," Bowser murmured, fighting to keep nausea down.

Toadette yanked his hair, crazed. "Was that even possible? How did she have enough momentum to hit them at that angle?! The tires can't even turn that way!"

"_Fuck_," Koopa groaned. "We still have to fucking race them later, y'know? This is horrifying."

One even.

Bowser's skin prickled as a dizzying hush fell over the entire stadium—he missed this, he realized. At least, a little. Racing too many events in a row took a lot out of him, but getting to watch an event helped to put things back into perspective. Or so he liked to believe.

But the lack of ambient noise served only to magnify the sounds of the tires and engines and the glass crunch of Item boxes and the eerie chime of wayward shells. It was unnerving, and electrifying, and Bowser again praised that great force, whatever it was, that had determined that he'd not had to face either of these two in this situation.

Yet at the same time, a familiar warmth grew within him—a hunger, really, even though he'd been chowing down on fruit the entire evening, spurred on by the attention-arresting Battle. No this was different—not foreign, no, but not quite familiar.

_She can do it_.

Oh, were he only in her place. A chance to fight, to beat down someone in the closest one could come anymore to a cage match with automobiles. He could smell blood in the air—whose? Had someone been injured from the previous collisions? Or was it blood yet to be spilt?

Perhaps he was going mad—but he could swear then that the audience had begun to sing. Or chant. Or perhaps it was not the audience at all, but just the echo of something far more permanent, ancient even, growing inside his mind—and he had no way to tell the difference.

As though in a dream state, his question received an answer—

_Soon_.

But how soon? And whose blood, and from what? The race? Something else?

Both?

"BOW, _LOOK_—!"

_SNAP_

It was the sound that made Bowser sick to his stomach first. For whatever reason, his mind would not process the imagery of the Mushroom-fueled crash until far, far later, Yoshi's front bumper completely crushing the front left end of Rosalina's kart into a crumpled heap, and one of her limbs with it, as the spectators erupted into a frothing, screaming mess all around him—but the almighty ear-ringing _SNAP_ was what made him sink to the floor, all but retching onto the concrete underfoot.

Toadette slid to the ground next to him and for an undeterminable amount of time he saw only her waves of pink hair, drifting and floating against the pitch black of the night sky. And the moon—no. No moon.

It was Rosalina's last balloon, he would come to realize later, once the _SNAP_ had ceased repeating inside his mind.

"Get up—c'mon Bow, get up, gotta get up—"

For whatever reason, he thought of Kamek then.

_Get up._

"Sorry," he rasped, his throat burning with bile. "Just—c'mon, let's go find Yoshi—" Slowly he pulled himself to his feet, trying not to meet his team's eyes.

The game announcers were in all likelihood actually speaking decipherable words at the time, he supposed, but he could hear nothing as they walked down the crowded corridors toward the garage stairs save for the endless, indomitable roar of the crowds around him and—

_SNAP_

"Where d'you think he'd be? With Boo and Petey?"

"Yeah," Bowser replied, focusing his attention to his phone. Boo's number. He had it. "Yeah—so you c'see your friend again, before the race tomorrow."

"Are you insane? Wherever he is, there's gonna be a shitload of people," Daisy whined. "Can we split up?"

_SNAP_

He blinked, his eyes stinging. "Good idea. Anyone who wants to go with Daisy, go find us a place to get dinner. My treat."

"Aw, shit! Okay, see ya there, Bow."

Only Toadette, Baby and Toad remained. "Everybody cool?"

On continued the dull roar. He could hear the faintest of snippets—_rigged kart? No—no way—Battle's always violent—give your all—only one way to win—fractured leg? Shattered leg? She out for good—?_

When they finally reached a semi-deserted niche in the fourth-floor corridor, Bowser halted them and leaned back against the wall to steady himself. The other three had been chattering about the race nonstop as they had moved. Slowly but surely their words came into focus.

_snap_

"—was _nuts_. Rosalina definitely gets credit for that fucking recovery move, though, and that pin play—"

"The hell happened to Yoshi's kart to make that wreck so bad, though?" Toad was saying in response.

"—wasn't his kart! It was hers! His didn't even have a scratch on it afterward, didn't you see—?"

"I don't wanna be whoever's in charge of setting that bone she broke, or bones—shit, what if she can't drive tomorrow—fuck tomorrow, there's no way, but the rest of the tourney? The more races you miss, the more points you give up to someone else—"

"Rosalina will be okay!" Toadette crossed her arms. "She has to be. Don't they have alien magic or something they could use, Bow?"

_snap_

"Dunno." And that was the truth—Bowser knew exactly as much about deep space magic as he did about any other kind of magic. Namely, zilch. "Hey, Boo texted back—god, you _asshole_." _Y&B's time for this evening has been accounted for. You can party with the other peasants out there, _the disproportionately eloquent text message read.

_sn—_

"Guess we're just heading to the restaurant, then. Someone call Louie and see if they've made it out of the garage yet." Fuck, he needed to put his mind somewhere else.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

When they finally stumbled back into the hotel hours later, Bowser contemplated all too painstakingly the option of crashing into bed and getting a few hours of sleep before the flight up to Sarasaland for the Sherbet Land race that night.

Nearly two entire seconds' worth of consideration.

The Skyscraper lot was now empty, if only because the gates had been locked and the revelers kicked out back to pedestrian-friendly parts of the city. But with no guards nor flashlights to be seen, Bowser happily parked his truck down a deliveries-only lane a block away and jumped the chain-link fence.

The inside was deathly quiet, and dark. Too dark. And these were just the offices—the stadium stood up on the 80th floor, forming the remaining ten highest stories. Luckily the service elevator worked.

He could immediately tell he had reentered the stadium by the ghastly noises of its steel beams creaking against the vicious winds so high in the air, the churning noises of the plumbing behind its concrete walls, and the endless echo of his footsteps as he made his way over to Gate 9. The place hadn't seen a whole lot of traffic in ages before that Battle, he supposed. Really though, when had the last Battle before it taken place? Years and years ago. When he was tiny.

This elevator was much larger, matching the others designed to take spectators straight down into the parking garage. A lone security camera swiveled to and fro on its high wall mount, a pale blue light blinking on its base. He clicked the _up _button, summoning the elevator; sure enough, the camera's blue light ceased blinking and remained steadily lit.

Bowser nodded, mostly to himself, and slid down against the wall once more, crossing his legs as he hit the floor. He could wait.

And wait.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"Anything else I can get for you, princess?"

"Get some sleep. A big day awaits us tomorrow." Rosalina flipped to the next page. Refreshing, paper books, after so very many screens and Gearmos and surgical tools and bio-spells.

"I cannot _believe_ you intend to continue in this tourney," Polari sighed, leaning against the frame of the library's entrance. "While we have known that someone's highly interested in cutting you down in your prime, it's at this point that the rest of the planet is surely catching on."

"They're showing their hand, Polari. It's means that they're either desperate or exhausted. I'm fine with either option."

"You may be fine, princess, but you musn't forget how much others may have invested in you. I needn't remind you to what measures I am willing to step up should a firefight break out."

"Thank you, Polari. I haven't forgotten."

"Very well, then."

He turned to go, but stopped at the sound of her breath hitching.

"Polari…"

"Rosalina?"

"What if…" She swallowed, wishing she could kick away the pain in her leg. "What if I told him everything?"

Polari shook his head, his eyelids drooping closed. "Not while you're injured. You'll want a trustworthy escape route, I'm sure."

"You're sure?"

"Ah, well, pretty sure. Eighty percent."

Eighty percent chance of years of work crashing around her neck.

Rosalina supposed she'd worked with worse odds before. At least once.

Polari turned once more toward the library exit. "Goodnight, dearest."

"Sweet dreams."

"Ha! Ha, ha, hahaha…" She could hear his exclamation echo throughout the library long after he left.

Six fractures. Only six. Three of which she had already begun healing, the remaining three still in need of a few more hours of setting still before she could apply the tissue sparks. Finicky shit, blue magic.

Her phone buzzed several minutes later, and she nearly jumped from her skin. Something successfully jumped in her left leg. _Ow._

_You have a visitor. Shall I send this one in? I smell smoke on him from a sling distance away._

A jolt wound its way down her spine. _Please do, _she wrote back._ Direct him to the library._

Rosalina shivered, absently watching her phone fade into sleep mode. Though the flames had long ago died down in the fireplace before her, she suspected many an hour remained before she could follow suit.

And Polari was right. She could smell the fire—not her pathetic crumbling one, but a rich, blossoming golden plume of flame and light, whose scent completely enraptured her. Something about him had changed, and she had an awful feeling that she knew exactly what that was.

Three quiet knocks on the heavy maple doors. "Hey…it's me."

"Come in." She closed her reference text and instead reached for her white leather-encased LCD tablet, not quite ready to look this person in the eye just yet. And why had her mouth begun to water so?

"Holy _shit_." Ah, he'd spotted the leg. "How's it…still…attached…? Is it?!"

Rosalina grinned, scratching at the brick-reddened gauze wrapped taut around her mangled knee. Upon the startlingly few places where her skin bore no open wounds, requiring no bandages, thick purple scars from her earlier healing actions still crisscrossed, deepening into red and green at points. It was the most beautiful monster she had ever constructed in her life. And she had constructed a few indeed.

"I did everything I could to make it through injury screening for tomorrow night's race. I'm sure you understand." If not this one, then who else?

But as she moved her gaze upward to catch Bowser's, she found herself pleasantly surprised. He bore no appearance of disgust, nor horror, nor any hurried attempt to appear nonplussed; instead, a mien of complete, golden joy had overtaken his features, his smile wide and his eyes dazzling. He was proud.

"So racer boys do appreciate Battle scars," she laughed.

"People out there were betting that you'd died in the hospital," he murmured, his eyes still wide, in awe? Fear? And oh, for such a reason to fear. "That you'd have to have it amputated…that you'd never race again."

"Well, they're in for a rather unpleasant surprise tomorrow, then," she replied automatically, flipping the tablet on.

"Of _course_ you're racing tomorrow night," he breathed, covering his face with one hand.

"Problem?"

He opened and closed his mouth several times before giving up, laughing into his hand, leaning against the empty armchair facing the fire for support. "_Christ_. There's no stopping you. You're—you're the best. I always fucking knew that, you know? And then with all this shit going on I keep forgetting that you could wipe the floor with me any day you wanted, and now—"

_Ouch. _"You might be exaggerating a little. But come here, I have intel for you. And I wouldn't mind hearing about your warp escapade this morning." Rosalina pulled up the files on her tablet as Bowser slowly lowered himself to the floor next to her, stretching his long legs out alongside hers. Long as hers. Goodness.

"Shit, you're cold." He shrugged out of his leather jacket. Rosalina smiled, grateful, before pulling it onto her own arms. Much, much better. "You should be in a hospital. Not that this place isn't, uh, spectacular—"

"I hear you. Now, look carefully. Do you recognize these racers?"

She tilted the tablet screen to face him, her heart pounding. It was such a loaded question on her part, cruel as she may have ever been. Save for that one time.

"Yeah," he breathed, working his jaw. "Wait, no—racers? Rosalina, it's the Bones Brothers. And Red. They—they race?"

Ten seconds. He had ten seconds. Rosalina closed her eyes, enjoying the meager warmth of the fireplace as its whimpering heat collected under the thick leather of Bowser's jacket. Enjoyed the scent—gasoline, cigarette smoke, something spicy—what—cinnamon? No—

"_Shit_. Wait, why—fuck, I _knew_ they were here the whole time, Red fucking told me that to my face—"

"I was equally blind. It was Polari who figured it out," she murmured, a brief laugh escaping her lips. "Roter Noko, Angoisse Shadow, Styx Tartosso...in hindsight, it was as though they were begging for people to figure it out. It's not the first time they'd adopted cover names, either." _Whoops._ Had she meant for that last part to slip?

"But what's the difference between them just being here and actually hitting the tracks?" He worked his jaw. "Cover names?"

"What do you think? And, yes. Cover names."

"Betting. It's gotta be for the betting. They're planning on upsetting us, fuck, I _knew_ I shouldn'tve let my team come—what if someone else gets—" He glanced pointedly at her leg. Ah, did he think that was a product of race-rigging? Poor angel.

"Then we'll be prepared for it, this time." She looked him in the eye for that. "But something tells me they won't be targeting your team."

"Yeah…yeah, but…_fuck_, this is confusing. When my uncle declared me the heir, I guess I'd just… stopped assuming he was gonna kill me, but even now…" He cracked his neck, staring into the dark fireplace. "I guess there's more of a reason now than ever to rig it so I'm the one to get killed off, yeah? Hell, you're lucky that you're still alive, after—"

Rosalina grimaced. "I will not let him harm you. While the crash this evening was…inconvenient, I can promise you that it was not completely unanticipated. But with your parents, he had taken us all by surprise. He won't get that chance again. But I do have a task for you. It may help you gain an upper hand over the Bones brothers, on the track and off."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Find out why your uncle invested in that family so suddenly after killing your parents," she replied, slowly, carefully. Thin ice, here.

"Yeah? You mean they only started working for him after that?"

"We don't have any data on the Bones Brothers from before that race. It's as though they appeared out of nowhere. Perhaps it'd be worth asking your uncle during one of your late meetings in the near future." She quirked her mouth just so.

"Yeah, well—hold it, you know I've been seeing him?!" The fire in his eyes was harsh, voracious in its need. "_How_—?"

She had anticipated that one. "Easy, easy. You're his declared heir. Remember, I once lived as you do now. Frequent check-ins come with the territory, Bowser. Your uncle, my parents, it's all the same."

He winced as though stung. Had he forgotten, only for her to remind him?

"But it's important, yeah? Those three—or four?" She guessed he was referring to Kuro's wife. Hm.

"Very," she replied, unable to mask the venom boiling in each her words. "We're all bound together, Bowser. Please keep it in mind. Your uncle and parents, the Bones family, my family. We made our choices. Some things were unavoidable, but…" That pain, again. Not in her shredded leg.

"'kay." He small he seemed, then. A pawn surrounded by kings and queens, bishops and knights. "I'll try. But, I need to ask first…what do _you _know about them? Like, how come they're so into… code names, or however you put it? And there's no record of where they'd come from, anything like that?"

Rosalina pulled up another set of portraits on the tablet before sliding it over onto his lap. She collected her thoughts as he read. _Damn Saulus for torturing the boy so._ Then again, she supposed, it was that one sin she held in common with the King.

"The hell?" He flicked the profiles around the screen, expanding the photos for a better look at each face, increasing the text size, oh, did he think his eyes were fooling him?

_Ezekiel, Kanya, 47._

_Ezekiel, Kuro, 42._

_Ezekiel, Karon, 35. _

_Deceased._

_No next of kin._

Three stern faces beamed up at him, all rich, tan skin and sharp dark eyes and knowing smiles: the eldest, pocketed with innumerable small scars dotting his cheeks and forehead; the middle brother, chuckling with a Council Page badge upon his lapel; the third, straw-haired and, in the photo, carrying a black leather folder. _FBR_, it read in embossed silver.

"Team Ezekiel was a famous group of race-fixers a few years back. Famous, because their existence was a hugely successful public secret; everyone knew, and still no one could touch them. One brother with the council wrapped around his finger, one with a wide funnel of money and tools after years of quiet arms-dealing, a third rapidly rising within the Bureau itself. Someone in there was an expert at covering tracks; to this day, no one's found anything on them in terms of paper. No records, no receipts, not a single awry email. They had it good, and all we could see were the impossible amounts of money coming to them from the most impossible outcomes of international karting events."

Bowser's jaw snapped shut as he read the dates of their differing births—and matching deaths.

"Rosalina, I knew these three."

Of course he did.

"Did you?" she asked gently.

"Yeah. I mean, not on a first name basis. But the Ezekiels were friends with my dad and uncle." His voice shook a little. "I was fifteen when they were killed."

"According to witness reports, they were killed in a gas explosion in downtown Mushroom City," Rosalina continued. "Does that…sound familiar at all?"

How pale he had become. "Yeah. Y—God, Rosalina, I went to their funeral. My uncle gave the eulogy. They were cremated on site."

Oh, dangerous territory. _Dangerous_. But if Saulus had not yet informed his nephew of the exact nature of the existence of those three, then she still had a shot at redemption. A narrow one, an awful one.

"I haven't even thought about them since then. Not once—not til now." Bowser kneaded his forehead. "Holy _shit_. The Bones brothers—look just like—but _why_? What could these people gain from faking their deaths? Especially since they're taking up pretty much the same exact jobs now that they had…had before…"

"Take a guess," she offered.

He exhaled sharply, as though annoyed. "What? More covering their tracks? As in, who's gonna try and hunt down a race fixer who died years ago? Or—or does it have to do with race betting? I dunno where to start, even…"

"You are far better positioned than I am to learn what this mess is about," Rosalina told him. "If I prod at the King too much, he'll suspect something and reinforce his defenses, or worse."

"Yeah, that's true." Bowser chewed his tongue. "Christ, the more I learn about these people the more fucked up this whole mess seems to be. I just want to race, is that so much to ask? Yeah. Yeah, it is. Argh_._"

Rosalina glanced at him, just catching sight of his reddening face before he buried it in his knees. "If it's too much for me to ask, then by all means don't concern yourself over it. I know this is hard on you. If…if I could reverse time…fix everything back, Bowser, you know I would. You—" She swallowed. It had suddenly become quite difficult to speak, largely because he was not the only one she had addressed.

"But I don't have that option," he snapped back, his posture still muffling his voice. "You're the only one helping me with all this. I could ignore you for the rest of my life, and they'd just rip me apart or break me into submission, I don't even know. I just…"

"Bowser—"

"I know I can't go back. They're using me for something, yeah. I get that. I'm not gonna bitch about it. It's just—god _damn_ it—" Bowser pounded one fist into the floor, his last words caught in a dry sob.

Exhaling slowly, Rosalina studied the curves and lines of his shoulders and back. He had begun to shake, his muscles tensing and shuddering. She gently lifted her left hand to the base of his neck.

_Cool down._

Bowser would not have felt the snap in the air that she had felt, nor heard the droplet-like _plink_ that echoed throughout the room to her ears, but as the magic seeped into his skin he visibly relaxed, knots undoing themselves beneath his skin as her fingers worked. While the blue glow could not repair damage, it nonetheless would loosen his nerves, ease his blood flow. She had practiced on that lovely leg of hers several times that evening already.

"Thank—thank you—I'm sorry, Rosalina, I'm _sorry_, you shouldn't—"

"Hush." She stifled the single breath of laughter that had formed for reasons undeterminable and continued to push the shallow magic across his back and shoulders. Eventually her hands began to shake, as though the stress had merely transferred rather than dissipated. Nonsense; it was only the cold. Rosalina finally retracted her hand, only to reach for a blanket resting over the arm of the sofa behind them.

"Should I…you okay if I re-light the fireplace?" Bowser asked, an uncanny glint appearing in his eyes. "If you're still cold, I mean—"

"I've never been good at keeping a fire going," she laughed, half to herself. "I could throw on a log, if—" And she stopped cold, her breath snatched away without warning.

Bowser had changed.

No, _no_, too vague, that wording—but true.

His eye sockets deepened in color, deep cracks appearing in his lips, a horridly familiar violet-white ring appearing around each of his irises, resplendent and bloodshot—even his veins bled to the telling golden hue beneath his hardening, leather-like flesh as only the very tips of his fingers rose into the air, pushing toward the fire, enticing energy from its dregs—

"Bowser…"

Did he have any idea what was going on? What was happening to him? Poor, poor child.

"It's lit. Rosalina, look. Look."

She knew without having to turn her head that he had willed the dying red ashes into the roaring golden flames now all but spilling onto the hearth, but she went with the motion for his benefit.

And just as quickly, the odd colors and scaly textures and bruise-like shadows began to shift away from his features, leaving Bowser as he had always appeared to her before. He pursed his lips once more, the corners of his mouth quirking with wordless questions—or fears? Was he choosing to not ask for her sake, or merely to shy away from the consequences? Oh, but it was too late, now.

Rosalina touched his cheek, angling his face toward her. No shaking, no tension, nothing but the unsung question dividing them by aeons, light years. Ages.

She pressed her lips to his temple. Slow, soft. No sudden movements.

And the fire was so perfect, unbalanced but not unchecked, a fleeting performance of creation and destruction, an offering of time to a god of transience. Her eyes filled, the salt in her tears stinging and cruel.

As if from out of nowhere—a mouth, against her neck, brushing her jawline, hesitant and patient. His breath, rich with smoke—not fire, not yet. And not painful, but soothing. Gentle. She sighed, wishing against all of the fates that he could stay.

Some immeasurable stretch of time later, he pulled away for air, and a thought occurred to her.

"Thank you." _Careful._ "It's a lovely fire."

She knew then how his blood would smell. No, no, another lie. She had always known. Only to be reminded, after years of beguilement into a false sense of, what, security? Hope?

"But, it's…" He winced. Shook his head. Tried to speak, in vain.

"It's not the first time, is it," she continued for him.

"It's—this is the first time I did it—consciously—I think earlier I'd—" His eyes darted in every direction at once, spinning from left to right, memories and calculations and projected outcomes frothing and fighting and dying, a hundredfold in the course of each second. "Whatever it is, it's… I dunno… there's more of it, or it's getting…stronger? I can control it now."

"Everyone has something they're good at," she mused aloud. "People have inclinations to certain things…penchants….talents, natural skills…and one could say that you have more than one, Bowser. Your love for racing may have been nurtured by your parents since you were very small, but some things pass on through our genes. Poor coordination or ambidexterity, diseases or resistances…"

And then it was as though her words had flipped a switch in his head, or at least in his tongue.

"What am I?"

Oh, that was clean. She smiled at him, at herself, absolutely and miserably in love, and it was all wrong. Wrong person, wrong time, wrong place, wrong universe, for only fate could deign to be so impossibly cruel.

"I hear… singing. No, that's not—but it's more than talking, but I don't hear it with my ears. My mind, I think. And I can't ignore it, and it's getting louder—do you even know?" He stopped cold, eying her face with yet another layer of fear clouding his gaze.

"It's not a question I have the liberty of answering. But we both know who you can turn to for that one."

He sniffed. Smiled, if only for half a second. "So I…so I _will_ know—soon. Just—not now."

"In all likelihood."

And then she would repulse him, forever after. Saulus was right; she was running out of time—was doomed, to fail.

"Okay. I guess I kind of feel better." He rubbed one eye, dabbing his finger first as though testing whether it would burn him. "Anything I can do for you, while I'm here?"

She sighed, smiling to herself. "I did want to ask about how you managed to warp yourself this morning."

"Yeah… I don't know a whole lot about it, to be honest, but…" His breathing finally slowed back to normal. "I have that ability. Now, I mean. I didn't, not always. I don't think I'm gonna try it again anytime soon."

"Any particular reason you picked a Mach 6 peripheral garage?" _Gadd's, at that._

"I didn't pick it, honest. I was just happy I didn't land in outer space, you know?"

"Outer space isn't so bad, now," she laughed. "Or are you uncomfortable here?"

That wordless look—_Are you _serious_?—_nearly made her laugh. "I tried not to freak out overmuch when that sling star flung me into your, uh, garden. Thought those rabbits were gonna judge me. First-time space traveler."

"Rabbits?" Oh, of course. She did laugh at that point. "Oh, the Lumas. Fear not. They love helping first-timers adjusting to the Observatory."

"Those were Lumas? Dang." He shook his head. "I'll be real with you though, every time you mentioned the Observatory I always thought it'd be, uh, I dunno. Steel and space suits and cramped hallways and not, uh…"

"Grass?" she offered.

"Grass. Or velvet, or fireplaces or… or, hell, open-air. How the hell do you do that? Is it the same tech that gives oxygen and gravity and pressure and everything to Rainbow Road?"

Okay, she needed to _stop_ underestimating Bowser's intelligence, stat. "The one and the same. How astute of you to notice."

"It's like a mansion, but without…without walls! Or a roof! Mindblowing shit, you know?"

"Home sweet home. I think this is my favorite room, though, to be completely honest."

"I don't blame you. It's…" He looked as though struggling not to laugh. "Cozy."

_Brat. _But she had to chuckle, casting her gaze to the glowing fireplace. "Thanks to you. And you're welcome here any time, you know. Not that I would recommend a warp attempt, unless you feel up to calculating the difference between the two velocities and angular momentum, not to mention taking into account—"

"Like I said. Not warping. Not anytime soon. I like that sling star room, though. Your guy Polari is… pretty chill." He rewrapped his jacket and the rest of the blanket snugly around her before slowly climbing to his feet, his face and skin having long ago completely returned to normal. "Since you, uh, don't have to do the airport marathon tomorrow like the rest of us…you should probably get some sleep. So that leg can heal faster. You know."

"Ha. Like I haven't heard that on repeat for the past six hours."

Bowser shrugged, his expression almost sheepish. "Not everybody can fathom life in the fast lane. Their loss."

Gods, she wanted to drag him back down and keep him in front of this astounding fireplace forever.

"Have fun trying to get any rest during that flight, then," she laughed instead.

"I'll try my best. No promises."

Oh, he'd just _had_ to throw that last part in. Had she only been able to say the same, that awful day three years ago. "Good night, Bowser."

"See you tomorrow, Rosalina. Don't lose."

And she was alone, warm and pained and altogether wretched.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Gosh, eighteen chapters down and it's only been five years.

Is this getting too confusing? I'd apologize but then I'd be lying… but please let me know what you think!

Seven chapters to go, I do believe.

Check out thatmariokartfic dot tumblr dot com for imagery and fun things :D Apparently we have more fanart incoming!


	20. Red Bones

Thanks for hanging with me, whoever you are :D I love you :D

Also is there seriously anything better than writing Rosalina on an ego trip no there isn't

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Nineteen

"How was your flight, dear? Not too terribly long, I hope."

"It was…loud," Toadette answered, stirring honey into her tea.

Daisy had pointed out her present location on their way to her parents' villa near the edge of town: a cozy café, small—obscure, really—and it supposedly had the best baked goods in the province.

_I might just have to pop in there later_, she had laughed aloud.

_Pick up some scones for me, then! We'll just be hanging out here, I think_. _Might visit the ice fields in a bit._

_Will do!_

It had literally been that easy.

And the pastries were pretty good; Toadette supposed she had just been spoiled after her stint in Peach's operation. Comparing these to hers was cruel. Unfair.

"Someone snoring? Or screaming children? The worst."

"Actually... Bowser wouldn't shut up," she giggled. "Something put him in a really good mood. Not sure what."

"Hm." Red Bones sipped from her own mug. "How's…how's he doing? Have you been able to…?"

"Almost," Toadette replied quickly out of habit. "He's got to slip up eventually. I'd been hoping to collect while fixing up the kart, making engine or hull repairs, that kind of thing. But he's…deft. Not gonna get any cuts from mech work."

"Understandable. He's as skilled a mechanic as he is a racer, if you recall. As were his…" She grimaced, albeit briefly. "Parents."

"But there's for sure no substitute? Has to be blood?"

"Has to be. The platelets we need can only be found among red blood cells, and only once the subject has turned a certain age—eighteen or nineteen, sometimes as late as twenty. Phenomenal, when you think about it…"

Toadette had absolutely zero desire to think about it. She took another quick sip of tea. "I'll try my best. But have you seen me race? What do you think?"

"You're just as amazing as ever, Toadette. I think he's a good match for you. Some skills we've seen you exhibit aren't even listed in our database."

"Ha. Yeah, he's taught me a few tricks." Toadette refrained from commenting on the exact esteem of Dry Bones' beloved skills database. How the hell had they let her stay for ten supposed years without teaching her how to execute a decent Mini-Turbo?

No. She knew the answer to that. It was the reason she would rather meet with Red every day of the year for all eternity than face Dry Bones one time more.

A thought occurred to her. "Red…can you tell me anything about the Team Jeremiah karts? One of them…this may sound crazy, but I know I've seen it before. And it was back before I left the labs."

Red laughed softly. "Now, you remember that we tested a great range of prototype vehicles back in the desert! You're sure you never snuck into the mechanical engineering labs in your off hours?"

Toadette blushed. "Okay. Okay, maybe." And there the image swirled together in her mind—the Jeremiah kart, minus its custom paint job, simply another engine in a long, dimly lit line extending into the dark depths of the lab's largest garage bay…

_"Maybe,_ she says. Oh, you cute thing. And might I add that I _love_ what being out in the real world has done for you! Making all the subjects wear the same shirts and slacks every day was a crime."

Okay, Toadette had to smile at that. _I knew you'd be proud._

Red had been a benevolent goddess in her own right at the labs. Toadette could not remember her own mother for the life of her—looks, personality—_nothing_—but had instead always imagined someone not too different from Red in her place.

"Team Firefly's gotta have style, if nothing else," she eventually replied. "Bow and Daisy von Sarasa took me on a giant shopping spree the second I got off the plane. It's been nice."

"Well, that's wonderful to hear, dear." Red scooped an intricately-sculpted pink pudding from her own saucer and plopped it onto Toadette's. "Just finish this one little task for us, and I promise we'll quit bugging you. You'll be free from us for all time! Now doesn't that sound good?"

Toadette shrugged. "I wouldn't mind meeting with you more. I don't see Petey enough, and you two were the only people in the labs I really liked." She cut a corner of the dessert with her silver fork and took a nibble. _Lovely!_

"How nice of you to say so, dear. Well, I'm happy to meet with you whenever you'd like! You wrote my number down this time, didn't you?"

"Sure did!" Toadette double-checked her phone anyways. Not even that Lee kid could interfere this time around. "As long as you're free, I mean. I don't wanna interfere with your work."

"Oh, I'd much rather grab a bite to eat with you than sit around an office with Doctor Dry Bones all day. You know how it is." Red winked and damn it if Toadette didn't want to start crying from happiness. "Just send me a quick text, dear, and we can always set up a time to chat!"

"That's good," Toadette sighed. The icy northern winds outside the café could rage all they wanted; she was snug and warm and full of sweet food and Red was _finally _here in all her exquisite glory. And nothing could take that away.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"Okay, I gotta ask—_what_ did you do to Bow?"

"Why does everyone always assume I'm the one responsible for everyone else's sugar highs?"

Paratroopa cackled, stealing Daisy's bag of Awesome Snacks and helping herself to its contents. "Just saying, you're the only one I've ever seen act that hyper while sitting still for three hours." And just when she had begun celebrating the lack of screaming babies on their flight…

Daisy yanked the yellow and orange plastic bag back, chortling. "He's been that way since he got in last night from wherever he snuck off to. Coincidence? I fucking think not."

Sherbet Land would always be her favorite place, Paratroopa had decided the second they had exited the airport. She had always loved the cold—the real cold, not the darkness-fueled coolness of Mushroom City, bearable though it may have been. This briskness, this frigid cushion against her skin, she preferred by far. After all, she had hailed from a small town in another province of Sarasaland, only a few hours away by train; it felt familiar, this cold snap. She appreciated it.

But the view before them defied words, not that Daisy hadn't tried her best. _Province's largest ice field_, she had said. _Massive. Air's so clear you can see the bends of the track from the far shore. _Where they were now, in fact, huddled together, freezing toes inches away from the steep, stone-strewn slope plunging into the unyielding surface of the lake.

"The view from the top floor observatory's the best, though. My ma used to let me watch races through her telescope. You could pinpoint the drivers' facial expressions if you took the snapshot at the right second."

"Damn."

They were silent for some time after that. Nothing painful; it felt right, just enjoying the frigid air and letting one's thoughts cool and solidify. Too much lately, she thought. Too fast, too nitro-fueled, too hot. This…this was nice.

But they did talk. Comparing home, or what they could call home, to their new darling mess in the big pitch-black city far to the south. _This_ here was pensive, and forgiving. The _other_ here…no.

But in _this_ here, they could admit it. In _this_ here, they had the freedom. She understood that now.

"Shy Guys, though."

It was as though Daisy had voiced her thoughts. "Exactly. They're spooky as hell. No—no, it's not even them, it's that—that everyone just, I dunno, takes it for granted—takes them for—"

"You got that right. I tried mentioning it to Luigi once. He just kind of…he seemed confused," the redhead whispered, as though fearing the masked dolls were listening even from the edge of their boundaries, hundreds of miles away.

"But…what _are_ they? Robots? Robots I could get. Cheap labor, zero conflicts of interest… efficient."

"No way in hell," Daisy murmured. "Robots I've seen before. Rosalina has a ton in that entourage of hers. Apparently most of them run that space station—you know. Gearmos. They say she designed them when she was only sixteen or some crazy shit. But whoever designed the Shy Guys—if they're, you know, robots—"

"It's just uncanny valley. The way they move, walk, everything. Too human. There's too much variety and nuance to their motions to chalk it up to realistic coding or what have you. Believe me, I've looked into it."

And oh, had she ever. Ever since Koopa had mentioned them in a chat comment, years and years ago. Hell, they had their own fucking web page on the government extranet site. It had listed the positions they served, the functions they performed, fun prompts to make them say cute things—just, no. No.

"There's a range, you know. The ones that work in shops and restaurants have larger IQs and vocabularies than the King's guards, and so on."

"Yeah. Some of them don't speak at all, and some—like, I dunno, Gourmet Guy—speak like six languages fluently. I don't get it."

Daisy nodded, her focus growing distant. "Hey. Ever thought of trying to get Koopa to come back up here? Maybe once you're done with school? Mario's trying to uproot the six of us—I mean, his team and me and Louie—back to Mushroom Bridge now that he's getting his doctorate."

For whatever reason, the reminder that Daisy's time with Team Firefly was steadily approaching its end stung Paratroopa in a way she could not _stand._ "I can't imagine taking him out of the city. It'd have to be something to discuss over a…a long period of time. Like when I wanted to come down here for school. It was a process."

"Which is why you gotta start now! Three years of discussion would have to merit _something_, you know?"

Paratroopa shrugged. Truth be told, she harbored little, if any, desire to leave the city permanently. Sure, it was peaceful out here. Relaxing. But it had been the wrong environment for her, and for far too long. She loved the push that Mushroom City gave her—the drive. It was a brilliant orange caution label, a warning, and every cell in her body stirred at the thought of figuring out just what it was that warning stood for. Every so often, caution tape meant bodies.

"We'll see. For the time being I don't plan on leaving. I moved down for a reason."

"Ha. You make it sound like you're on a mission." Daisy kneaded her forehead. "Well, I can't blame ya. That city needs more people like you. People who ask questions."

Paratroopa grinned, stealing the snack bag once more. Yeah, she loved this place, so bright with all the glinting of the ice and snow. After so much darkness and smoke, the clear air felt downright refreshing.

Disturbing, really, the number of things that smog alone could obscure.

Daisy checked her watch. "That giant diplomacy meeting the Parliament's having with Bow's uncle should be finished soon. We should make everyone breakfast for lunch!"

"Good idea. Dunno if they gave him a chance to eat between getting off the airplane and attending that thing. Everyone's gonna need to be at full strength for the race tonight." Paratroopa slowly stood up, brushing her pants dry. "Hope he's having fun."

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

By the time he could make it back to his team, he had braced himself accordingly.

_"Bow!_ Bow, your uncle okay?! Shit—"

"Fuck that, are _you _okay? What if that guy had—?"

"Isn't your uncle going to the hospital? Shouldn't you go with him?"

"Can we come? I've never been in the same room as royalty before except—"

Bowser threw his hands up and forged his anti-people scowl into his absolute best attempt at a smile. "He's fine. I'm fine. Actually I'm not fine, I'm starved. And it's fucking cold. Let's get out of here. He's okay. It's okay. It's fine, c'mon."

Koopa's jaw had hit the floor. "How the fuck is he _fine_? He got stabbed in the _spine_! _Twice!_"

"People are saying he wrestled that guy to the floor and snapped his neck," Toad breathed, clearly not buying it. "He should've lost half his blood from all that struggling."

"He…yeah, he lost some blood, but no, seriously guys, he's fine. I promise. It's okay. Otherwise I'd still be there. Honest."

To be fair, fifteen whole minutes had passed since the incident. Since then, both the Mushroom Kingdom Shy Guy guards and the Sarasaland police forces ushered the session's audience to the frosty courtyards a good half-mile away from the Sarasaland Parliament Hall; meanwhile, Bowser had threatened no fewer than twenty-three local and international paparazzi with varying versions of _I will literally burn you in half and feed your barbecued dick to your mother_.

Speaking of which, "Fuck, more are coming. Seriously, let's get the fuck out of this courtyard and I will answer any and all questions about any and all _spectacularly_ failed assassination attempts. To the best of my knowledge." See, he could totally be a politician. He had the fucking language down pat if nothing else.

They dove into the mob, Bowser yanking his hood up in a last-ditch attempt to prevent recognition by anyone too annoying. Luckily, most of the throngs of people seemed only interested in being part of flash mob and only a handful seemed to know what had gone down during the Parliament session. At least two or three Sarasaland citizens offered fist bumps and low fives and for the first time in recent memory, Bowser felt at ease while wearing his uncle's enormous garnet ring.

Baby rounded on him first as soon as they piled into his truck. "So you're honestly telling me that some nutcase can jump out of nowhere, jab a knife into the king's back twice, and the king can just pin him down and break his neck like nothing even—"

"He didn't even flinch," Koopa cut in. "Did any of you notice? He didn't even look around to see his attacker until everyone else started screaming and pointing at him. Like he—like he didn't even feel it."

He was right, Bowser realized with a jolt. His uncle had not so much as blinked all the while the would-be assassin's blade had slid into the gap between his shoulder blades.

Time had slowed. Bowser had stood only a few yards away, with Dark Bones and two other Mushroom Kingdom council members, while Saulus answered questions from the podium center-stage. He had not thought to pay attention to the swishing of the sunny yellow and sky blue stage curtains behind them, nor to the too-soft footsteps approaching from backstage.

Not until now.

"Turn on the TV," Toad called out the instant they returned to Daisy's villa. The others had stayed behind with her to make a giant breakfast-for-lunch for everyone else before the evening's upcoming race. _Fuck, that's probably still on later_, Bowser thought with a lurch. Had it really been only half a day since the Battle atop the Skyscraper stage? Where Rosalina had—where—

"Both of them," he murmured absently.

Daisy shrieked at the morning's footage as it popped up on the local news. Many different broadcasting networks in both Sarasaland and the Mushroom Kingdom had dutifully recorded the session live, but with seemingly no new developments happening at the Hall in real time, the stations had instead collectively decided to run the same stabbing- and wrestling- clips on repeat forever. Newspeople speculated at the origin and motive of the attacker, as well as the well-being of the King, who had walked gracefully from the Hall into the secure private chambers completely unaided.

"Police are now working to identify the attacker," an MKNN anchor reported. "His Royal Highness Saulus Giga-Bowser had spent the morning defending the Mushroom Kingdom's automobile industry emissions deregulation and public sponsorship of the country's racing bureau, citing positive impact on the national economy as well as increased citizen cohesion as critical factors. He had begun answering the Sarasaland Parliament's questions when the attacker, a heavyset man in his late thirties or early forties, jumped from backstage and stabbed him twice in the back…"

"I _told_ you that you should've gone with us," Baby jeered at Wario. "It's Bowser's first official workday as a politician so of course someone got stabbed. Kinda sucks that it was his uncle, though—"

"_Baby_! God!"

"It's cool, Louie. My uncle's fine."

"You fucking kidding me? Holy shit, look at—_can_ they show that on network TV? That's just—"

"He's-a not facking _fine,_" Wario moaned. "He got-a stabbed in the _spine_—"

"Yes, for the five hundredth goddamn time, some nutcase jumped my uncle during the Parliament session. We were there. I was there. My uncle was, uh, wearing a vest. He's… tougher than he looks."

Waluigi nodded in approval at the umpteenth video clip of King Saulus Giga-Bowser pivoting on the spot, grabbing the attacker by the neck, and pinning him to the floor at a lethal angle and speed.

_He didn't try to pin the guy back behind the podium,_ Bowser noted. _Wrestled him to the floor off to the side. _Where everyone could see. Or was he imagining things?

"Hey Bow, there you are!" Waluigi jerked his head at the screen, skinny arms crossed.

"Like I said, I was there," Bowser laughed in spite of himself.

He watched his past-self run over to where his uncle had crouched over the attacker, one unyielding hand clamping the man's throat and the other pinning his legs to keep him from writhing out of his grip. _Not that he could've escaped that_, Bowser thought, remembering his uncle's inhumanely strong hand at his own throat from not too terribly long before.

He had screamed something at his uncle. Words? Profanities? Unintelligible roaring?

"Looks like he's smiling at you," Baby murmured as the footage continued to roll. "Bet he was glad that guy came after him and not you. You're all he's got, yeah?"

"He… did," Bowser recalled aloud. Even now, his uncle's face burned in his mind's eye, vivid and clear and downright joyful despite the storm of noise around them. Yeah, he had smiled. Hell.

_Got him,_ the king had mouthed. _It's okay. It's okay._

"And then the guards ushered everyone out of the room… here's where I couldn't watch anymore since they made us leave…" Baby chewed his tongue as he watched. "Holy shit, you're right. He's—he got up! _Damn_!"

The clip continued on for another several minutes, though the action ended as the attacker finally ceased writhing and squirming with a loud _snap _ringing from his neck. Bowser exhaled slowly, still not okay with that sound. At this rate he never would be.

Meanwhile, guards sealed the room and circled the king as he took a deep breath and stretched his back. A faint trickle of blood stemming from between his shoulder blades marred his champagne-colored suit jacket, an uncanny echo of the ceremonial garnets at his forehead, fingers and earlobes. More droplets glistened on his front, scattered amidst the double rows of brass buttons—not his own blood, but the attacker's. Bowser's head swirled, his thoughts sloshing from his mind as though some great omnipotent hand had tipped it over.

"And they never called a stretcher? They just… just let him walk out of the room? Just like that?" Paratroopa shook her head, her expression stormy. "_How_…?"

"Too bad there wasn't footage from the private rooms y'all went into," Toad murmured. "What happened after that?"

"The guards had called in a medical team the second he was stabbed, so they got there within a few minutes. But—" His breathing cut short. Could he finish that statement?

Or was the real issue a different one entirely?

_But he'd stopped bleeding by then,_ his ears rang. The words bounced back and forth inside his head, refusing to form on his tongue as though by some indomitable will of their own.

"_You got blood on your face, old man_," he'd grumbled. In, what, disorientation? Delirium?

"_Ah. Thanks." _And the king had pulled the kerchief from his breast pocket—also a deep red, God, enough fucking red that day to last him a lifetime and a half—and wiped his cheek, his expression unreadable, if calm.

"But what?"

"Uh. Not…" He swallowed. "Not much of the knife actually made it through the skin. Like I said. Vest."

But by then Koopa had pulled up the clip on his tablet so he could pause it. "You sure? Look at this, Bow. It's buried in him to the fucking hilt, and it was way longer than six inches. I'm thinking eight or nine, minimum."

_Fuck_. Bowser shrugged, the corners of his mouth quirking helplessly.

Wait.

_Hold the phone—why am I lying for him?—defending him? _Defending him from what? His friends?

What did their queries mean to him, and why did he feel the need to—to protect his—?

"He's got a point, Koopa. No one takes that much knife into the spinal cord only to wrestle a guy to death and then walk out of the room ten seconds later like frickin' Godzilla," Toad piped. "And he didn't even flinch. I bet it only cut the skin. No deeper. Yeah?"

God fucking bless Toad, Bowser thought for not the first time in his life. He sighed and collapsed back into the fat leather couch, kneading his temples. God bless—

Oh, fuck.

"_Where's Toadette?!_"

"Right here," her shrill voice piped from the entry hall. _Oh, thank fuck. I'm not old enough to die from a fucking heart attack_. Seconds later she appeared in the doorway. "What's… what's going on?!"

Everyone in the room exchanged glances before Toad sighed, grabbed his sister and Koopa's tablet, and settled in for the long haul.

Bowser instead followed Daisy and Waluigi back into the enormous guesthouse kitchen and ate for what felt like the first time in years. Wally clapped him on the back before joining him at the table.

"Some strength, your uncle got," he laughed dryly. "Good thing he's on your side."

Bowser nodded once, unable to bring himself to speak. Luckily someone had thought to cook steak and eggs. His favorite. Or one of his favorites. He was pretty sure. Mostly sure. He pretended to busy himself with food.

"You're probably gonna have to take a military convoy to get back to the Mach 6," Toad laughed once the others had all joined them in the dining room. "It's like a giant manhunt out there if you're working for any news station on the planet. The King's barricaded up in the Parliament Hall and no one knows where you're staying. By the way, tell your parents thanks from us, Daisy."

"Ahh, you know they love having y'all. Damn racing fanatics. Should've been born in the Mushroom Kingdom."

"We can get to the Mach 6 without a hitch, remember? We made a warp point in Gadd's garage." Bowser ripped off a piece of steak with his teeth.

Baby shoveled down the last of the food on his plate. "Oh, yeah! Bow, I meant to ask you something on the plane but I forgot and then all this shit went down—c'you come look at the mirror in a bit?"

Bowser leapt up. "Yeah, show me now." A distraction involving impossibly complex space-time manipulation that could land him in trouble with six different intergalactic authority figures was still a distraction. He welcomed it with open arms.

The enormous golden-framed hotel mirror had not budged from its spot inside Bowser's largest suitcase, nor had it begun transforming its container into some kind of partially-warped mess (Was that even a thing? Bowser had no fucking clue when it came to this stuff).

"It got bigger," he breathed, not wanting to believe his eyes. Okay, the tiny blob of color-changing paint was bigger only by a fraction of an inch, but.

"I heard a weird sound come from it last night after _you_ left to go wherever," Baby whispered pointedly. "Then I couldn't find the brush! Did—?"

"Yeah, I took it," Bowser admitted. "It's in my small suitcase now if you want it back."

"Did you _use_ it?! _Where_?"

Bowser glanced around to make sure no one else was—okay. "Rosalina's Observatory."

Baby's jaw dropped. "_No_. Wait, so you can warp up there…?"

"Maybe. I wouldn't be surprised if it showed up on her scanners or whatever. That whole place is one giant warp engine so something as powerful as Gadd's brush has to cause some kind of interference, yeah?" _But she hasn't called me about it. Not yet._ And it had been over twelve hours…

Baby shrugged. "No clue. I dunno how that stuff works at all. But, Bow…did you tell Rosalina about the brush?"

Oof. "I…told her that we'd…accidentally managed to warp. Something along those lines. I don't think she knows about the brush. Or if she did, she probably doesn't know that we have it now. She and Gadd have worked together before, I'd bet cash on that. I just don't know to what length or degree."

"But that's like…" Baby chewed his tongue. "I dunno. Keeping a secret from her. A big one."

"Just returning the favor." Bowser was surprised at how bitter his own words sounded—and at how easily they slipped out. Five hours ago he had been positively fucking elated from his midnight trip, chattering on the god damn airplane like a doped-up mockingbird—and then, with the events of that diplomacy meeting, everything had just come crashing down.

Was it from seeing Dark Bones in person for the first time after having the connection between him and Kuro Ezekiel drawn by Rosalina? Or, was he beginning to question—?

Footsteps approached. Bowser stood back up and lifted Baby to his feet. "Let's talk after the race, 'kay?"

Paratroopa and Toadette barged into the room, eyes wide. "They can't find the knife," Toadette breathed, echoing the current breaking news' headline. "They think someone grabbed it but…they can't tell who or when from the security footage…" She sent Bowser a loaded glance.

Bowser kneaded his forehead. "Great. This is just…"

"Look." Paratroopa handed her tablet over to him. "Here, the knife's in that plastic police bag on the table, but…" She fast-forwarded the video. Several people passed between the table and camera, effectively blocking its view for almost a solid minute. "And it's gone!"

"Hold up." Bowser rewound the clip and seated himself at the bedroom's large maple desk, focusing on each person walking in front of the evidence table in turn. But he recognized no one; his uncle and Dark Bones stood away on the far side of the table, chatting up the police as a med team bandaged the gash on his back.

"Who'd wanna steal the knife?" Paratroopa asked. "We already have the culprit! They'll be able to ID him within the hour! What's the point?"

But Bowser kept watching. Some police officers passed in front, and some Shy Guys—whoa.

_Splendid_.

"Toadette?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna go work on the car before the race starts? We have a few hours before lining up."

"Sounds good, but how are we gonna get to the garage?"

Bowser nodded at the golden-framed mirror, a slow smile creeping over his face.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

"Something's throwing off the suspension," Bowser muttered from underneath the kart. "C'you toss me that monkey wrench?"

"Here." She slid it along the concrete floor of Gadd's lab into his hand. The bay door to the main garage was shut tight. "Okay if I go ahead and top off the oil?"

"Good idea. Can't be too careful. Not with this fucking course. It's all slippery ice and snap-freezing water. Godawful shit."

They worked another few minutes in silence before she finally heard him bring up that morning's events. "I think I know who took that knife."

Huh. Toadette replaced the oil cap and perched on the floor next to him. "Yeah? Who?"

"Can't remember where I'd seen it before, but one of the Shy Guys in that video had on a nice suit. So not one of the usual king's guard types. Dunno why, but I remember that thing being annoying when we met…"

Toadette racked her brain. "That does sound familiar."

"Also, Rosalina gave me intel last night about the Bones Brothers. Dunno if you were interested. Meant to bring it up earlier, but then I got dragged to that meeting…"

"What'd she say?"

Bowser rolled out from underneath the kart and licked his lips. "Stuff I should've noticed ages ago but was too thick to notice. A couple years back, my uncle's friends—three brothers who ran a, uh, pretty impressive racing-fixing long con—were killed in this explosion back in Mushroom City. At least, that's what I'd thought…"

Toadette blinked. "How many years back? And it had to be faked, since you're talking about the Bones Brothers walking around now…?"

"Exactly. Uh, what'd that file say…" He sniffed. "Just over four and a half years ago... right before my sixteenth birthday."

Toadette swallowed, the words clicking together in her head like long-unused cogs in a machine. _That can't be right—_"Almost exactly a year before your parents were killed? In an explosion?"

Bowser froze.

"Bow?" Toadette chewed her tongue.

"Y-yeah. Holy shit, you're right, I didn't even think—" The corners of his mouth quirked upward, as though his words refused to leave his lips without a fight. "Yeah, that's true, it was just exactly a year…and then I was too busy dealing with everything that'd happened with my parents that I didn't even think about it—no wonder—"

But another, completely different thought struck Toadette. _Four years and six months ago… what was _I _doing?!_

And she had no answer. No clue. They'd never counted time in the lab—just cycles, of light and darkness, of activity and restoration, work and relaxation—not—

"Maybe," she murmured, mystified. _Dry Bones could totally have hidden in the labs while getting his identity redone_. "It's possible. I mean, I can't vouch for what the brothers were up to, but I know the doctor could've hidden in the basement labs for months on end."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely," she replied without a shred of doubt. "The labs extend forever underground—the main facilities go for miles—you could live there for months without leaving. Years. I did."_ Or so they say._

"I'll keep it in mind," he muttered. "But Toadette, here's the other thing—at least two of the Bones Brothers are those racers we haven't been able to recognize. I think Styx is Dry Bones himself, so Shadow is probably Dark, and Noko is definitely—"

"—Red," Toadette finished for him, wishing she felt more surprised. _What _are_ you up to, Red Bones? _"But, wait, who's the doctor's partner? The laser-shooting one?"

"You tell me. I didn't live with the guy for three years."

Toadette pouted. "Hey! He was totally covered up! No way I could've recognized him, plus I've never seen him race. Well, I mean, I guess I have now…" Gosh, this was annoying. Why hadn't Red told her that morning?!

"Just saying, keep your eye on them. I mean, yeah, same as before. But now we know why."

"Do we?"

"They've gotta be trying to rig the race as participants," Bowser explained, finishing up his adjustments on the cabin suspension. "Back when they were the Ezekiels, they hired other racers to do the same thing. Only now…"

"They don't want anyone to recognize them. Different identity, different M.O… so no one would suspect it's them." Toadette swallowed. "And Red's with them now…?"

"Guess so." And, as if as an afterthought, "Sorry. I know you liked her."

"I still like her. She's nice to me. She's way better than Dry Bones."

Bowser said nothing, only sitting up and retying his hair. It had fallen loose while he had worked beneath the kart. Toadette had an idea.

"Can I braid your hair?!" she asked. It had been a while, especially since Baby had taken to working on Bowser's hair since the King had named him heir. "Not the whole thing—just one little one?"

"Ha. Sure. Gotta look good for the race. Did you remember your winter stuff?"

"Yup! All our heavy coats and leather gloves are on those coat hangers next to the entrance." She grabbed a comb out of her purse and went to work on his scalp. "Hey, you're starting to get split ends. Maybe Baby can trim you up when we get to the desert?"

"I'll take your word for it. Your hair's getting pretty long, by the way."

"Maybe he can work on the both of us. His grows pretty fast, too." Faster than everyone else's on the team.

And Toadette had more than a hunch as to why.

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

Rosalina felt perfectly at home in the ice. If only she could say the same for Lee.

"_Why's it so c-c-cold?!"_

"Space is colder, my dear. Watch your six."

Her Thrower hurled a green shell backward, bouncing it off the cave walls until it collided quite spectacularly with someone's kart from Team Banshee. Poor, hairy fellow with a scrawny kid Thrower.

"Is _not_! This cold's attacking me! At least space-cold doesn't carry knives."

They glided across the frigid ice planes, dodging glaciers that exuded such a bone-shattering cold that anyone who touched them instantly became frostbitten.

"We're approaching first place fast, Mama!"

"Let's knock these guys around a bit, shall we?" Rosalina steered them through a double-Item box. The crystal-bell sound of a special Item rang in her ears as it formed in her hand. "What did it give you?"

"Green shell!"

"Excellent. Initiate attack plan Gamma."

They switched positions. Lee wound them between ice-skating penguins and danced along the edge of the shoreline of the frozen lake—one of the worst dips into which any racer could ever fall. Even after Lakitu rescued its victims and returned them to the road, they still lost precious seconds thawing out before they could hope to move forward again. But Lee was no slouch at steering, and they pulled off a mini-turbo that launched them straight toward their prey.

"Now!" Rosalina fired up her personal Special Item. Not the comet; a common misconception had labeled that hers, when it in fact belonged to Lee. Instead, an iridescent force field of translucent hexagonal panels flashed around their entire kart for half a moment before going completely invisible, and she switched back to the driver's seat so Lee could use his Item in turn.

"Round one no good!" Lee scowled as the Jeremiah kart before them swerved expertly out of the way. "No good!"

The shell bounced off the cavern wall and headed straight for them. "Here's to round two," Rosalina whispered, smiling to herself.

Sure enough, her force field held; its iridescent panels caught and immobilized the shell long enough for Rosalina to chart a heat-seeking path toward the first place kart. _Got you._

"Firing now!" With a shimmering spin, Lee launched the green shell without bothering to aim. The little missile had taken on a telltale blue light trail and, seconds later, succeeded in crashing into the Jeremiah kart. The Concerto spun out and collided with a fat penguin, smoke rising in languid curls from its hull.

"_Yes!_"

Rosalina overtook them with a graceful parade wave, bracing herself for the final lap. Noko and Shadow fell to second, with Bowser and Toadette vying for third with Turbo Birdo kart from Team Banshee. The Bloom Coach and Boo Pipes loomed just behind them.

Onward they flew, Rosalina's force field finally dissipating after its allotted ten seconds. Sarasaland's temperatures remained steadily low year-round due to the country's proximity to the North Pole; even right now, in the middle of summer, her kart thermometer read at only a few degrees above freezing and the engine struggled to retain heat. But she knew better than to overwork its gears; driving at too high a speed would render her, and any other driver at her skill level, unable to retain control of its steering. The slick, icy ground was more treacherous than even a hypothermic engine, and one wrong angle could push her into the frigid drink.

Lee cried out as the Jeremiah kart returned with a vengeance, both of its drivers in possession of leering red shells. His screamed turned to white mist that evaporated moments later into the air, his lips liable to chap over after another few minutes if they did not end this quickly.

"Two red shells! We're gonna have to swerve, Mama!"

_Damn_. Eluding red shells, on this ice… unlikely. Cruel.

"Watch their trajectories for me!"

But the Concerto's racers held onto their items, blowing through several Boxes as they flew without picking up anything new. _What are they waiting for…?_

"_Watch out_! Five o'clock and fast!"

This one she could elude. Just barely—but—

"Keep an eye on that second one!" She had swerved to their right, breaking free from the shell's path an instant before it flew in for the kill. Safe.

Or not. "Six o'clock! There's no way—!"

_Ouch._

_Well_, Rosalina reasoned as they plummeted over the icy ridge and into the glacial waters below, _now we know why they waited to fire until now._

But she could not afford to dwell in the past. It would be precisely 3.2 seconds until Lakitu dropped them back onto the road and she could not slip. Could not miss. Could not lose focus, not for even a moment. The water burned, coating her skin in unspeakable pain as she and Lee snap-froze to their kart. She cursed the earth, cursed the cold, feeling her not-quite-healed leg flaming up in agony. 2.5 seconds.

She vaguely sensed Lee's struggling behind her. Time slowed to a crawl, but she held on to that last thread of diligent time-counting with all of her heart and strength. 1.3 seconds.

_Desire can be a hell of an anesthetic._ Oh, did she want to win. It had been so long…

0.2 seconds and—

Up they flew. Rosalina resisted the urge to go numb, to shiver slowly into the veritable heat of the air around them, to ease her way once more into the world, the race. They had not the time.

_VRRRRRMMMM—_her foot was pounding a tattoo into the acceleration pedal before her brain could register what she was doing, and her Honeycoupe's engine roared to life at full power for the first time that entire race. She knew without having to look that two enormous blue flames had erupted from her tailpipes before her kart had even hit the ground.

All around them, the clusters of icicles shattered and melted and evaporated into the air. Lee whooped as they rocket-started into the tunnel, overtaking what looked like both the Turbo Birdo and the Koopa King in a single shot. She fell back into her default racing mentality, shouting at Lee to focus, to watch for incoming projectiles or other racers, gliding across the slippery ground with ease.

"Mama, you have a shot! Take it!"

Not Items, of course, for not nearly enough time remained for her to swerve around to grab any of the bureau's toys. The finish line loomed and only the Concerto and a handful of loose Freezies stood between them.

But that was all she needed.

"Let's get violent," she murmured before pulling a Mini-Turbo and rocketing them up to the Jeremiah kart. Calculations flew through her mind—force, trajectory, room for error—but they were good. They always had been. It was in her nature, owning this place. Everyone else could fight for the silver medal.

"_Nice!_" Lee shouted as she launched them dead into the Concerto kart's left tail light, effectively ramming it into the closest Freezie. Noko and Shadow snap-froze to their kart on impact, fat icicles encasing them completely and rooting them mercilessly to the ground.

By then Rosalina had crossed the finish line.

"We did it! Ten more points!" Lee hopped in place on his pedestal, stuffing his freezing hands into his armpits to warm them.

"Good work, my love."

"Good work yourself! Victory lap time!"

And she could finally allow herself to notice the cold. It was jarring, really, the burning chill seeping into her bones after so very much of Luma's beloved space-cold. An unbearably lovely image of her roaring library fireplace suddenly burned in her mind—the fire and its creator both. _Gracious_.

"Okay, racers, back to the garage! Winners to the pedestal for photo ops! Go, go, go!"

Rosalina enlisted Luma's help in stepping out from her kart once they returned it to the Mach 6. Amazing, really, how she had no issue driving, nor standing, nor leaping between racing positions with the kart going at lethal speeds, with a dud leg—but walking was still problematic. She kissed the top of Lee's head once he helped her up the metal steps to the first place pedestal. Then the flashbulbs began.

"You did marvelously, my love. We can celebrate tonight with Bop and Polari if that sounds good."

"Yeah! Polari owes me five coins now!" Lee giggled mischievously. "He thought'd you'd end up in second or third since your leg got shattered last night."

Rosalina smirked. "Well, we showed him, did we not?"

"You think people'd know better than to bet against you at this point." Lee waved gleefully at the news cameras.

"You would think that, wouldn't you," she murmured through her patented television smile.

"Some intense shit," the pink-mohawked driver standing on the third-place pedestal called up to them. "How'd you break the ice after falling in? Anyone else would've been stuck at fourth or fifth in that last lap."

"If you can withstand the cold and have a big enough engine, you can pull a rocket-start at the drop to instantly shatter the ice formations left on your kart after falling into that water," she explained. "Not something I'd recommend trying at home."

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that the Concerto's racers still kept their faces covered with wraparound sunglasses and thick woolen mouth covers. Rosalina shot Kuro the barest hint of a smile.

_I know it's you_.

To her surprise, however, he winked. What, did he know that she knew? _Heavens_.

"Call me when you're done changing," she told Lee before heading into the women's locker room. "I won't be long."

"'kay. Say hi to Toadette for me!" He skipped off to find Polari.

Pauline approached her first, shrugging out of her thick down coat before changing into a softer pink leather jacket. They had their usual discussion of points and times, strategies and analysis.

"I'm never gonna complain about you carrying us! Being carried into a sweepstakes award is still better than no sweepstakes award!"

"If you insist. But you have to admit that the boys are doing a lot better this year. Hopefully they can update their Item next season to something…" Rosalina shrugged. "…useful."

"Ha. If you think you have the power to tell the twins they can't ride those monsters into battle then be my guest." Pauline snapped on a pair of cashmere gloves, stashing her leather racing ones back in her locker. "Meet you later for dinner?"

"Sounds good."

Rosalina took her time at her locker. Fortunately, so did the infamous Roter Noko. Eventually they alone remained in the quiet room.

"I can understand Dark's decision to hide his face," she finally called. "The kingdom's favorite council member, racing in an international cup for fun? The press would hound him to death. But who is it that you're hiding from? There aren't any rules preventing FBR employees from participating." _Nor their state-of-the-art robots_, she thought wryly. "And you've just as easily fabricated another identity for your partner. Or is this simply easier?"

The racer finally removed her mouth covering and sunglasses, placing them neatly on the top shelf of her locker, before snapping the door shut and spinning the lock with a flourish.

"Who indeed," Red Bones giggled, inspecting her nails. "The thing about racing is that you can get awfully close to someone you've been avoiding for a while. Like you exhibited today. I'm simply trying not to trigger any uncomfortable memories, you see."

"Whose memories?" Rosalina found herself asking. "Mine?" Her leg had begun to sting.

Red Bones raised an eyebrow. "And here I was thinking that you weren't the type to forget important things. No, Rosalina. We're still the only parties here with complete sets of information. I can't fear your memories any more than you can fear mine."

"Not mine, then," Rosalina sighed. "But Rex knows you and your colleagues are participating. I wouldn't recommend attempting anything drastic now that he's on his guard."

"Oh, my. No, no, my friend. Wrong again. And if your third guess is Toadette then I am going to seriously begin doubting your abilities at this point."

No kidding. Rosalina snapped her locker door shut and exited the room at a limping pace as elegant as she could muster. "Good thing that wasn't my third guess, then. Good luck on Saturday."

"And yourself. Ta-ta."

Rosalina swallowed as she made her way back through the bustling garage. Toadette had not been her third guess, but it had been Red's. And, following that pattern… she stopped dead in her tracks, her heart pounding.

_I've got to contact Petey._

o.o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o.o

But yeah! Only about six chapters left! What am I even doing

And on that note:

Firefly has a massive Tumblr accompaniment that is loaded with visuals since it was originally intended to be a webcomic/graphic novel type thing. Check thatmariokartfic dot tumblr dot com for fun stuff. Spoilers are tagged. Everything is tagged. But, really, do it.

final thoughts: go see Pacific Rim or forever wish you had. it's a giant love letter to the entire mecha genre wrapped in an LSD-laced bow


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